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ELEANOR  LEE 

A   NOVEL 


BY 


MARGARET  E.  SANGSTER 


GROSSET    &     DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS      -      NEW  YORK 


Copyright   1903  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


Margaret  E.  Sangsters  Works 


A   TRIO  OF  GIFT  BOOKS 

The  Queenly  Mother 
In  the  Realm  of  Home. 
Illustrated  by  Griselda  Marshall  McClure. 
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Fairest  Girlhood 

Illustrated  by  Character  Studies  by  Griselda 
Marshall  McClure.  Handsomely  Decorated. 
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Winsome  Womanhood 
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Lyrics  of  Love 

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That  Sweet  Story  of  Old 
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When  Angels  Come  to  Men 

Decorated  Boards,  Gilt  Top,      -      net  1.00. 

Eleanor  Lee 

A  Story  of  Married  Life.     Cloth,  1.50, 

Janet    Ward 

A  Daughter  of  the  Manse.    Cloth,  1.50. 


TS 


This  book  is  inscribed 
with  love 

to 
CLARA  de  FOREST  BURRELL 


1523725 


FOREWORD 


AS  we  walk  the  world's  highway  we  meet  and 
pass  many  whom  we  would  love  if  we  knew 
them,  but  whose  paths  diverge  from  ours. 
Every  life  has  its  message  of  helpfulness  for  every 
other,    if  there   were  time  to  stop  and  become  ac 
quainted.     Few  lives  are  without  their  hidden  sor 
rows,  and  no  joy  is  ever  complete  that  has  not  been 
somewhere  touched  by  pain. 

In  writing  the  story  of  Eleanor  Lee,  I  have  shown 
a  woman  true  in  the  stress  of  trying  circumstances 
to  an  old-fashioned  ideal,  a  woman  whom  adversity 
did  not  embitter,  and  whose  fidelity  did  not  waver 
under  any  temptation.  When  womanhood  is  at 
once  sweet  and  steadfast,  it  attains  a  high  nobility, 
and  this  I  have  tried  to  illustrate  in  the  every-day  life 
of  an  every-day  heroine. 

MARGARET  E.  SANGSTER. 


CONTENTS 


I.  A  Bolt  from  the  Blue     .          .          .          .II 

II.  The  Suit  of  Donald  Waugh    ...        25 
///.  When  Half  Gods  Go     .         .         .         .33 

IV.  Waiting  Days       .....       44 

V.  When  Souls  were  Tried          .          .          -53 

VI.  The  First  Shadow         ....       60 

VII.  For  Better,  For  Worse  ....        69 
VIIL       Day  by  Day jS 

IX.  Some  of  the  Neighbors     .          .          .          .87 

X.  Aunt  Polly's  Morals       .         .         .         -97 
XL  Kathleen      .         .         .         .         .          .103 

XII.  A  Letter no 

XIII.  God's  Way 117 

XIV.  A  Vanished  Hope  .          .          .          .127 

XV.  Unexpected  Guests          .          .          .          .134 

XVI.  A  Man  in  the  House     .         .         .         .140 

XVII.  An  Evening  Call  .          .          .          .148 

XVIII.  A  Tiny  Cloud 157 

XIX.  Do  Duties  Conflict?       .          .          .          .164 

XX.  Donald  Interferes  .          .          .          .174 


10 


CONVENTS 


XXI.  A  Hall  of  Rest       .          .  .180 

XXII.  Sister  Rachel          .          .          .          .190 

XXIII.  A  Fright 196 

XXIV.  Friends  Together    .          .          .          .202 

XXV.  Problems 214 

XXVI.  An  Obstacle  or  Two        .          .          .226 

XXVII.  The  Burden  of  Wealth    .          .          .233 

XXVIII.  Losing  His  Grip     .         .         .         .240 

XXIX.  In  the  Rose  Garden  Again        .          .     248 

XXX.  Trouble  That  Was  Not  Foreseen        .      254 

XXXI.  Thy  Gold  to  Refine          .          .          .260 

XXXII.  The  Packet  Kathleen  Found     .          .     266 

XXXIII.  Under  the  Shoulder  of  the  Hill  .     272 

XXXIV.  A  Homesick  Heart  .         .         .     278 

XXXV.  What  Eleanor  Said          .          .          .283 

XXXVI.  Irene's  Discovery     ....      289 

XXXVII.  Harry's  New  Role  .          .          .297 

XXXVIII.  Visitors  and  Premonitions  .          .     305 

XXXIX.  Fulfillments 314 


Eleanor  Lee 


A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE 

THE  sunshine  of  an  October  day  lay  soft  upon 
the  little  village,  and  the  air  had  the  crisp 
edge  that  comes  with  red  and  yellow  leaves. 
Hills  and  dales  were  veiled  in  the  opaline  haze  of 
autumn.  Eleanor  Lee  had  been  dusting  the  books  in 
the  library,  a  long  and  tedious  piece  of  work,  but  it 
had  to  be  done  and  she  did  not  mind.  She  would 
have  finished  the  task  much  sooner  if  she  had  not  so 
often  yielded  to  the  temptation  to  peep  into  favorite 
volumes,  and  read  page  after  page,  now  from  a  for 
gotten  book  on  the  top  shelf,  again  from  an  old 
medical  work,  or  perhaps  from  one  of  her  father's 
law  reports.  Judge  Lee's  library  was  delightful  but 
miscellaneous,  rich  in  standard  authors,  thinly  pro 
vided  with  current  literature,  though  there  were  in  tt 
some  volumes  of  Jane  Austen,  Charlotte  Bronte, 
Thackeray  and  Dickens.  Eleanor  was  a  born  reader, 
and  everything  in  print  attracted  her,  from  the  ad 
vertisements  in  the  newspapers  to  the  brown  and 
dingy  sermons  which  were  a  family  legacy  from  her 
grandfather,  the  Rev.  Mather  Jenks,  who  had  minis- 

ii 


12  ELEANOR   LEE 

tered  to  one  parish  forty  years.  It  was  her  privilege 
to  take  care  of  the  library,  and  its  semi-annual  dust 
ing  always  took  place  when  her  father  was  absent  on 
circuit  duty.  Naturally,  he  could  not  be  interrupted 
when  at  home.  Mrs.  Lee,  whose  housekeeping  was 
of  the  comfortable  variety  that  does  not  insist  on  too 
much  cleaning,  had  an  impression  that  Eleanor  was 
over-fastidious,  an  inheritance  from  generations  of 
scrupulously  neat  housewives  in  the  past.  But, 
probably  if  Eleanor  had  been  less  careful,  her  mother 
would  have  been  more  so.  On  this  day,  she  had 
been  more  than  usually  thorough,  and  she  surveyed 
the  shining  shelves  and  the  beautiful  and  stately  room 
with  peculiar  satisfaction  as  she  finished.  Mother 
would  be  pleased  when  she  came  from  town,  and 
father,  on  his  return,  delighted.  He  would  call  her 
his  darling  little  girl,  in  that  tone  which  was  as  sweet 
in  her  ears  as  a  caress. 

Eleanor  went  to  the  garden  and  cut  late  roses  and 
chrysanthemums  with  great  bunches  of  fragrant 
lemon  verbena,  and  filled  the  vases  in  the  drawing- 
room  and  library.  She  gathered  an  immense  handful 
of  cosmos,  and  put  it  in  a  silver  pitcher  in  the  hall. 
A  little  lingering  honeysuckle  made  a  bouquet  for  her 
father's  desk.  Kathleen,  her  sister,  passing  through 
the  house  with  her  school-books,  exclaimed  at  the 
beauty  of  the  flowers,  from  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
"  Hurry  and  get  dressed,  Eleanor.  Father  is  coming 
home  to-night,  and  you've  made  the  house  look  fit 
for  a  wedding.  He'll  be  charmed!  " 

"  I  know  it,"  she  answered,  flying  up  two  steps  at 
a  time,  catching  Kathleen  around  the  waist,  and 
whirling  with  her  giddily  to  the  door  of  their  cham- 


A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE    13 

her,  where  both  girls  sank,  laughing  and  panting,  on 
a  broad  divan.  It  was  almost  four  o'clock.  The 
canary  in  its  cage  was  singing  like  mad,  and  Eleanor 
listened  with  an  answering  joy.  She  was  very 
happy  with  the  pure  untroubled  ecstasy  that  belongs 
to  girlhood  when  one  is  well  and  strong  and  glad  to 
be  alive,  and  no  angel  of  unrest  has  yet  stirred  the 
waters  of  the  heart. 

Presently  she  dressed  herself  for  the  afternoon. 
Tall,  slender,  graceful,  her  figure  not  yet  rounded,  for 
she  was  just  past  eighteen,  with  dark,  dreamy  eyes, 
and  a  mass  of  wavy  brown  hair  that  made  a  crown 
for  her  head,  and  was  her  torment  because  there  was 
too  much  of  it  for  the  Greek  knot  she  adored,  the 
girl  merited  the  pet  name  of  Princess,  which  was  her 
father's  favorite  appellation  for  his  elder  daughter. 
She  slipped  on  a  gown  of  clinging  white  wool,  with 
a  girdle  of  yellow  silk,  and  without  a  glance  at  its 
effect,  for  she  had  no  vanity,  passed  down  to  the 
library  again  to  read  and  rest  and  watch  for  her 
mother's  return. 

The  clock  in  the  hall,  an  old,  old  clock  that  had 
come  from  across  the  sea,  and  ticked  away  the  years 
of  six  generations  of  the  Lees,  struck  four.  Above 
stairs  the  canary  sang  his  very  heart  away,  and  Kath 
leen  at  the  second-best  piano  was  drumming  over 
her  exercises.  Otherwise,  house,  and  garden,  and 
street,  were  very  still,  so  still  that  Eleanor  heard  the 
steadily  approaching  footsteps  of  a  man  who  must 
have  arrived  by  the  four  o'clock  train.  Few  men 
came  in  by  that.  Islington  was  a  deserted  village  so 
far  as  masculine  humanity  was  in  concern,  until  the 
six  o'clock  express  brought  husbands  and  fathers 


14  ELEANOR   LEE 

back  from  business  every  night.  During  the  day  it 
was  a  New  England  Cranford. 

She  raised  her  eyes,  and  saw  a  stranger  coming  up 
the  avenue  between  the  yellowing  maples  straight  to 
the  door.  Eleanor  observed  that  he  walked  with  in 
tention  and  swiftly  as  one  who  brought  tidings.  Yet 
he  stayed  his  foot  at  the  porch,  as  one  who  hesitated 
to  tell  his  errand.  A  client  of  her  father's,  perhaps, 
or  a  gentleman  who  had  met  the  Judge  abroad, 
where  he  had  been  last  summer.  The  man  advanced 
and  rang  the  bell. 

"Is  Mrs.  Lee  at  home?"  she  heard  him  ask,  in  a 
low  voice,  and  the  maid  answered  with  the  hospitable 
manner  of  the  gracious  household. 

"No,  sir,  she's  in  town,  but  Miss  Eleanor's  in  the 
library.  Please  walk  in." 

Eleanor  was  accustomed  to  receive  people  who 
called  on  her  parents.  She  had  often  played  the 
hostess  when  her  mother  was  ill  or  absent,  and  she 
had  no  timidity,  yet  something  chilled  her  as  she  met 
the  stranger's  grave,  set  face,  and  saw  the  pallor  of 
his  compressed  lips.  She  motioned  him  to  a  seat, 
but  he  remained  standing  until  she  resumed  her  chair. 
He  had  the  effect  of  wishing  to  speak,  but  not  know 
ing  how  to  begin.  A  bearer  of  unwelcome  news,  he 
paused  on  the  threshold,  gazing  at  the  radiant  vision 
before  him,  feeling  deep  compunction  that  he/nust 
presently  dim  it  with  tears. 

Is  bad  news  ever  broken  gently  ?  Is  it  ever  worth 
while  even  to  attempt  to  soften  the  force  of  a  blow 
that  must  crush  joy  as  a  rough  hand  crushes  a  butter 
fly  ?  One  might  as  well  accept  the  inevitable.  If 
misfortune  arrive,  it  must  be  met  with  what  courage 


A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE    15 

one  can  summon.  Calamity  is  never  other  than 
devastation.  A  shock  is  like  a  whirlwind  or  a  cy 
clone;  it  blots  the  world,  and  for  a  time  drives  the 
planets  from  their  orbits.  We  stand  bewildered 
among  the  ruins  of  the  accustomed  and  the  pleasant. 
To  most  gladness  in  this  earth  of  ours  there  come 
pauses  when  we  forget  that  we  were  ever  happy. 
And  no  amount  of  preparation  can  change  the  order 
of  nature,  or  make  the  rough  places  plain,  or  soothe 
at  once  the  ache  of  that  ploughshare  of  suffering, 
that  as  Lowell  tersely  says,  tears  its  way  down  to  our 
primitive  rock. 

"Mrs.  Lee  is  not  at  home?"  said  the  man,  ten 
tatively,  longing  to  gain  time.  It  was  not  easy  to 
dash  the  light  from  the  face  of  this  girl  in  white. 
The  man  had  a  little  child  of  his  own  at  home,  dark- 
eyed  and  sweet.  She  might  grow  up  as  fair  as  this 
bonny  maiden. 

"Mother  is  in  town,"  answered  Eleanor.  "lam 
expecting  her  very  soon.  If  you  wish  to  see  her,  I 
hope  you  can  wait.  It  is  pleasant  in  this  sunny 
corner,  and  here  are  the  magazines."  She  rose. 

"Pray  remain  seated.  You  are  Judge  Lee's  elder 
daughter,  I  presume.  I  have  heard  your  father  speak 
of  you." 

Eleanor  smiled.  Her  father  was  noted  for  speak 
ing  of  his  children  in  the  world  beyond  the  cottage 
doors.  Yet  she  thought  it  singular  that  the  man  did 
not  state  his  errand,  and  she  drew  herself  up  with  a 
little  air  of  dignity,  waiting  to  hear  what  it  might  be. 

"  Your  father  has  been  some  days  away,  I  believe  ?" 

"  Yes,"  Eleanor  acquiesced,  aware  of  something  to 
come. 


16  ELEANOR   LEE 

"\  hardly  know  how  to  tell  you,  Miss  Lee,  but  it 
must  be  told.  Your  father  was  taken  ill  this  morning 
at  Aldis,  whence  I  have  come,  fifty  miles  from  here. 
He  was  at  the  inn  on  his  way  home.  He  has  been 
very  ill  indeed." 

Eleanor  rose  again  from  her  chair,  clasping  her 
hands  piteously,  alarmed  at  once. 

"  Oh,  why  are  you  so  slow,  why  did  not  some 
one  telegraph  ?  I  am  wasting  time,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  must  go  to  my  father." 

"  Calm  yourself,  Miss  Lee,  I  beg,"  said  the  stranger. 
"Your  father  is  coming  to  you.  The  fact  is,"  he 
halted  and  went  on,  "that  Judge  Lee  passed  away 
without  a  struggle  at  Aldis  to-day :  he  is  at  rest.  I 
brought  the  word  to  the  office,  and  then  I  came  to 
tell  you,  and  to  see  if  I  could  be  of  service.  No  one 
else  would  come."  He  paused  and  added,  "The 
body  will  be  with  you  this  evening." 

Eleanor  sat  as  if  frozen,  hardly  comprehending, 
pallid,  in  a  dazed  silence.  Presently,  the  visitor, 
satisfied  that  he  could  do  nothing  more,  turned  to  go. 
At  the  outer  door  he  stopped  and  rang  the  bell. 
When  the  maid  answered  it  he  said,  "You  would 
better  see  to  Miss  Lee.  I  am  afraid  she  will  faint." 
Then  he  left,  taking  the  vision  of  her  stricken  figure 
with  him.  He  had  done  a  hard  day's  work. 

Norah  found  Eleanor  sitting  as  if  turned  to  stone. 
She  roused  herself  a  half  hour  later  when  her  mother 
came  rustling  in,  full  of  her  happy  day,  her  light 
laugh  making  its  musical  sound  as  she  swept  into  the 
flower-dressed  room. 

"Why,  Eleanor,  my  darling,  what  has  come  to 
you  ?  You  are  not  ill,  surely  ?  Why  Eleanor!  " 


A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE    17 

"Oh,  mother!  mother!"  cried  the  girl,  throwing 
herself  into  her  mother's  arms.  "Father  is  dead. 
They  are  bringing  him  home.  Father  died  at  Aldis 
this  morning!" 

It  was  a  bolt  from  the  blue.  The  next  few  days 
were  graven  on  Eleanor's  memory  as  by  the  point  of 
a  diamond.  She  never  forgot  them.  And  to  the 
end  of  her  life,  she  loathed  a  certain  poetic  phrase 
repeated  three  days  later  by  a  man  who  stood  beside 
her  father's  coffin,  and  tried  in  clumsy  fashion  to  be 
a  comforter.  He  was  a  pompous,  blundering  fellow, 
with  red  hair,  large  hands,  and  a  good  heart. 

"  Eleanor,  you'll  get  over  this  after  a  while.  You 
think  you  won't,  but  everybody  does.  Time  blunts 
the  feeling.  He  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb. 
God,  you  know,  Eleanor." 

"Oh,  Donald,  don't,"  she  exclaimed,  but  he  en 
joyed  the  flow  of  his  own  eloquence,  and  floun 
dered  on.  She  stood  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
coffin,  rebellious  against  consolation  at  all,  most  of 
all  from  this  source.  Her  heart  was  beating  like  a 
captive  in  a  cage.  She  despised  words  that  sounded 
in  her  ears  both  perfunctory  and  oratorical.  But  she 
controlled  her  expression,  and  made  no  further  sign 
of  impatience.  What  good  would  it  do?  The 
monotonous,  rather  rasping  voice  prosed  on.  Behind 
that  rigidly  restrained  look  of  hers,  different  emotions 
were  in  conflict,  chief  among  them,  notwithstanding 
her  rebellion,  a  feeling  of  amusement.  How  her 
father  would  have  appreciated  the  situation,  with  his 
keen  sense  of  humor  and  his  love  of  fun.  Judge  Lee 
had  been  a  man  of  infinite  tenderness,  and  of  infinite 
.drollery,  and  his  daughter  knew  just  how  he  would 


1 8  ELEANOR   LEE 

have  kindly  tolerated  the  platitudes  of  Donald 
Waugh.  At  last  Mr.  Waugh  tore  himself  away,  first 
holding  her  limp,  unresponsive  hand  in  a  close  clasp, 
the  lingering  pressure  of  which  she  endured  just  as 
she  had  endured  the  personal  attentions  he  had  been 
offering  her  for  a  twelvemonth.  "Eleanor's  tame 
bear,"  the  Judge  had  called  him,  sympathizing  with 
her  when  the  poor  fellow  stepped  on  and  tore  her 
first  beloved  trained  dress,  and  sympathizing  with 
him  when  the  little  lady  scorned  him  day  by  day. 
But  Donald  came  of  sturdy  Scotch-Irish  stock  and 
was  not  easily  daunted.  Eleanor's  indifference  stim 
ulated  his  ardor,  and  he  had  too  good  an  opinion  of 
himself  to  realize  that  hers  was  unflattering. 

Donald  was  not  the  only  visitor  in  these  days  of 
darkness.  Friends  came  and  went  all  day  long  dur 
ing  the  interval  between  the  Judge's  death  and  the 
funeral.  Eleanor  received  every  one,  took  charge  of 
the  house  and  the  kindred,  made  herself  a  guard  for 
her  mother,  and  put  her  grief  resolutely  in  the  back 
ground.  She  hardly  shed  a  tear,  but  her  whole  being 
ached  in  the  revolt  of  her  suffering.  Kathleen  would 
huddle,  a  heap  of  misery,  in  the  corner  of  the  sofa, 
and  cry  till  her  eyes  were  red  and  she  had  no  more 
tears  left.  Mrs.  Lee  remained  in  her  own  room,  leav 
ing  it  only  to  shut  the  door  now  and  then,  and  turn 
the  key  of  the  drawing-room,  and  stand  beside  the 
dead.  She  was  passive  and  silent,  asserting  herself 
only  when  her  brother  and  the  minister  urged  her 
not  to  go  to  the  grave. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Lee,"  said  the  pastor,  "you  will  only 
be  utterly  wearied.  Be  persuaded  and  stay  here 
after  the  service." 


A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE    19 

"Sister,  1  wish  you  would,"  added  her  brother 
gently  and  pleadingly. 

She  smiled  a  wan  smile.  "And  let  you  all  take 
John  up  there  on  the  hill  without  me.  No,  the  girls 
and  I  will  go.  He  would  have  gone  with  us,"  she 
said  firmly.  "It  is  the  last  thing  I  can  ever  do  for 
John." 

When  they  returned  from  the  cemetery  Mrs.  Lee 
was  calm  and  brave.  After  a  day  or  two,  the  guests 
one  by  one  melted  away,  and  soon  the  succession  of 
friends  and  acquaintances  who  brought  their  condo 
lence,  ceased  to  call.  Judge  Lee  was  no  more  ;  and 
in  the  court  room  and  community,  another  reigned  in 
his  stead.  The  widow  and  the  two  girls  took  up 
their  lonely  life  in  the  house  that  so  missed  the  pres 
ence  of  the  bluff,  courtly,  genial  man,  the  home  that 
was  lost  without  his  ringing  voice,  his  cordial  cheer, 
his  bonhomie,  his  constant  affection.  Hard  work  it 
was  to  grow  used  to  the  gap,  but  it  had  to  be  done. 
Mrs.  Lee  refused  to  make  the  house  sombre.  As 
winter  drew  on,  the  blinds  were  never  lowered,  and 
Kathleen's  piano  was  heard  as  usual.  Sometimes 
Eleanor  threw  a  cloth  over  the  canary's  cage,  but  her 
mother  said,  "Try  to  bear  it,  dearest.  Your  father 
loved  song  and  sunshine.  He  would  not  like  us 
to  mope  and  mourn.  He  said  to  me  years  ago, 
'Whichever  of  us  may  go  first,  the  one  who  remains 
must  not  show  the  white  feather.'  And  darling, 
he's  just  as  much  alive  as  ever,  only  out  of  our  sight, 
you  know.  So  let  the  bird  sing." 

But  Eleanor  knew  that  her  mother  wept  in  the 
night.  Poor  Mrs.  Lee  grew  thin  that  winter,  and 
looked  older,  and  would  not  crimp  her  hair,  or 


20  ELEANOR  LEE 

suffer  any  relief  to  the  blackness  of  her  widow's 
dress. 

Eleanor  had  not  liked  mourning,  and  had  said  in  the 
old  days  before  death  marched  over  the  doorsill  and 
routed  her  theories  that  she  would  never  wear  it. 
But  her  mother  was  decided  on  this  point,  and  set 
tled  the  matter  without  controversy. 

"What!  not  wear  black  for  your  father,  my  dear! 
Say  no  more  about  it.  We  must  wear  it,  to  show 
our  respect,  and  for  our  protection.  You  and  Kath 
leen  for  a  year  or  two;  I,  forever.  I  shall  never 
change  back  to  colors." 

And  she  never  did.  Through  a  long  life  of  wid 
owhood  she  wore  only  black. 

All  this  story  happened  a  good  many  years  ago, 
and  Eleanor  and  Kathleen  were  young  girls  in  the 
years  that  preceded  the  Civil  War.  They  lived 
through  the  stir  and  stress  and  tumult  of  that  event 
ful  period  which  made  the  land  red  with  the  blood 
of  the  slain,  and  was  fervid  with  the  tense  passion 
of  brothers  in  battle  array.  That  time  was  not 
yet.  Faint  rumblings  of  the  coming  storm  were 
heard,  but  few  noticed  them,  and  there  were  bliss 
and  bane,  buying  and  selling,  marrying  and  giving 
in  marriage,  just  as  if  nothing  beyond  the  common 
place  were  likely  to  occur.  Eleanor  observed  an 
unusual  exaltation  about  her  mother,  one  morning 
nearly  a  year  after  the  Judge's  death.  She  hovered 
near  her,  solicitous,  yet  did  not  intrude  on  her  mood 
by  questions.  Quietly  she  brought  her  sewing  and 
sat  near  Mrs.  Lee;  pushed  a  hassock  under  her  feet, 
and  a  cushion  against  her  back.  Kathleen,  in  the 
drawing-room,  was  playing  softly.  The  others  were 


A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE    21 

in  the  library.  A  large  photograph  of  the  Judge  was 
on  an  easel  opposite  Mrs.  Lee's  favorite  chair.  Fresh 
flowers  were  always  kept  before  it,  as  if  it  were  a 
shrine. 

"Eleanor,"  said  the  mother,  "I  am  leading  the 
most  curious  double  life:  do  you  know  that  I  dream 
of  your  father  nearly  every  night,  and  sometimes  I 
see  him  when  I  am  wide  awake?" 

"Oh,  mother!" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  and  it  is  the  greatest  delight.  I  used 
to  wet  my  pillow  every  night  before  1  slept,  with 
tears  that  would  not  stop,  but  not  now.  For  John 
has  told  me  not  to." 

Eleanor  began  to  fear  that  her  mother  was  growing 
insane.  But  she  had  grace  given  her  to  keep  silent 
and  listen.  AH  her  life  she  was  to  be  a  good  listener, 
and  people  would  love  her  for  it  in  the  years  to 
come. 

"I  was  sitting  in  my  own  room  yesterday,  very, 
very  sad,  when  suddenly  I  felt  myself  not  alone.  I 
looked  up,  and  there  was  John,  in  that  old  blue  coat 
he  used  to  wear  on  our  tramps  in  the  woods.  He 
looked  as  he  did  the  year  you  were  born:  you  never 
saw  him  when  he  was  so  young  and  handsome,  but 
1  have  always  kept  that  memory  of  him  in  my  heart. 
Well,  he  sat  down  by  me,  and  looked  right  into  my 
eyes,  and  said,  'Alice,  sweetheart!" 

"Yes,  I  can  hear  him,"  said  Eleanor. 

"  '  Alice,  you  have  grieved  enough.  You  are  com 
ing  to  me  when  you  are  not  needed  here — but  the 
house  is  too  sad.  You  are  too  sad.  You  must  have 
it  as  you  used  to.  You  and  I  are  not  far  apart.  You 
have  Eleanor  and  Kathleen — you  three  are  together. 


22  ELEANOR   LEE 

I  am  waiting  for  you.  Be  strong  and  of  good 
courage.'  Then  he  was  gone,  but  where  he  had 
been  sitting  a  shaft  of  evening  light  lay  golden  on 
the  chair." 

No  doubt  this  experience  was  a  beautiful  dream. 
Eleanor  thought  so,  but  she  was  thankful  that  her 
mother  grew  happier. 

As  they  were  talking,  a  tap  came  at  the  door,  and 
with  the  privileged  freedom  of  a  family  friend, 
Donald  Waugh  walked  in. 

"  I  came  to  inquire  if  I  might  escort  Eleanor  to  the 
concert  to-morrow  night,"  he  asked. 

Eleanor  frowned  and  shook  her  head.  She  hated 
to  be  monopolized  by  Mr.  Waugh,  and  yet  she  was 
unable  to  shake  him  off.  Before  she  could  speak, 
her  mother  answered  for  her. 

"You  are  very  good,  indeed,  Donald.  Kathleen 
and  I  will  go  too.  I  will  procure  the  tickets.  You 
may  escort  the  family." 

This  was  not  according  to  Mr.  Waugh's  pro 
gramme.  In  those  days,  chaperones  were  almost 
unheard  of,  and  a  man  took  the  girl  he  admired  all 
by  herself  to  evening  entertainments,  and  sometimes 
to  a  little  supper  afterwards.  Eleanor,  however,  had 
never  yet  gone  out  alone  with  any  man  except  her 
father.  It  was  a  relief  to  her  that  the  old  order  was 
not  to  be  changed.  Donald,  with  what  politeness  he 
could  muster,  marched  heavily  off. 

"Thank  you,  mother,  for  not  asking  him  to  sup 
per,"  said  Eleanor.  "  He  is  horrid." 

"Child,"  said  her  mother,  "don't  call  him  h( 
The  man  is  in  love  with  you." 


THE  SUIT  OF  DONALD  WAUGH 

TO-MORROW  night  came  and  Donald  Waugh 
presented  himself  in  good  season,  on  the 
stroke  of  eight,  with  a  carriage.  He  was  in 
evening  dress  and  had  a  white  carnation  in  his  button 
hole. 

Mrs.  Lee  exclaimed  at  the  carriage.  The  evening 
was  fine,  the  distance  short,  and  people  in  that 
neighborhood  took  carriages  only  when  it  rained.  It 
seemed  absurd  to  drive  just  around  a  corner  or  two. 

"This  is  extravagance,  Donald.  We  are  in  the 
habit  of  walking;  it  looks  foolish,  doesn't  it?"  she 
remonstrated. 

"  Oh,  for  once,  let  us  be  luxurious,"  he  said.  "  I'm 
glad  you  are  going,  Mrs.  Lee.  You  have  been  stay 
ing  so  much  at  home  this  while  past." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  but  now  I  shall  try  to  go  everywhere 
with  the  children,"  she  answered.  "Isn't  Eleanor 
coming,  Kathleen  ?  I  thought  she  was  ready." 

"In  a  minute,  mother,"  called  Eleanor  and  pres 
ently  she  descended  the  wide  staircase,  a  straight 
slender  girl,  in  a  gown  of  some  thin  stuff  that  trailed 
behind  her.  A  big  feather  fan  was  in  her  hand.  She 
had  delayed  a  moment  to  discard  the  bunch  of  white 
carnations  she  had  thrust  into  her  belt  and  restore 
them^to  a  glass  of  water  on  her  bureau.  Having 
caught  a  glimpse  of  Mr.  Waugh's  flower  she  did  not 

23 


24  ELEANOR   LEE 

wish  to  match  it.  Kathleen  softly  clapped  her  hands, 
as  she  watched  Eleanor  coming  down  with  the  air  of 
a  princess  in  a  procession,  though  she  was  all  alone. 

Eleanor  needed  no  color  to  set  off  her  black  gown 
beyond  the  rich  rose  red  in  her  cheeks.  She  was 
beautiful  in  the  rare  loveliness  of  her  years,  with  a 
promise  of  greater  beauty  when  she  should  be  older. 
Her  mother  regarded  her  with  complacency.  Women 
take  very  great  satisfaction  in  the  beauty  of  women; 
it  is  a  pleasure  partially  artistic,  and  to  some  ex 
tent  partisan,  as  if  the  comeliness  of  the  individual 
belonged  to  the  entire  sex.  A  mother,  too,  sees  in 
her  fair  young  daughter,  the  revival  of  her  own 
youth.  A  mother's  pride  in  a  fair  daughter  is  in 
evitable. 

Donald  beamed  as  he  followed  the  ladies  to  re 
served  seats  in  the  Assembly  Room  of  Islington 
where  concerts  and  lectures  were  given.  All  the 
dwellers  in  the  little  borough  were  there,  and  every 
one  was  glad  to  see  Mrs.  Lee  and  the  girls  emerging 
from  their  seclusion.  The  young  man  with  them 
was  aggressive  by  nature  and  something  of  a  mas 
tiff's  resolution  was  shown  in  the  set  of  his  strong 
jaw.  He  was  clean-shaven  which  was  not  the  fash 
ion  then,  and  he  had  a  heavily  moulded,  ugly,  but 
honest  and  intelligent  face,  with  a  shock  of  red  hair. 
Eleanor  would  have  thought  him  the  homeliest  man 
of  her  acquaintance,  if  she,  had  not  been  so  accus 
tomed  to  seeing  him  for  years,  that  he  made  no  more 
impression  on  her  than  his  collie,  Laird,  or  the  furni 
ture  in  the  office.  Though  a  business  man,  he  had 
taken  a  course  of  law  with  her  father,  and  hi^pom- 
ings  and  goings  had  been  as  those  of  a  member  of 


SUIT  OF  DONALD  WAUGH  25 

the  family.  Lately  Donald  had  bored  her,  and  she 
declared  to  Kathleen  that  he  was  a  prig  and  perfectly 
insufferable.  Poor  Donald.  He  had  not  the  ghost  of 
an  idea  why  it  was  that  Eleanor  whom  he  thought 
so  perfect  had  thus  far  taken  pains  to  repel  him,  and 
been  as  elusive  as  a  will-o'-the-wisp.  It  had  piqued 
his  vanity  and  increased  his  ardor.  He  had  now  ar 
rived  at  the  time  when  he  intended  to  make  an  end 
of  indecision. 

That  very  morning,  the  maiden  sister  who  kept 
house  for  him,  in  the  old  mansion  where  both  had 
grown  up,  had  ventured  to  inquire  why  he  had  pur 
chased  a  building  site  in  a  part  of  the  village,  some 
miles  away.  She  had  noticed  that  he  was  often 
poring  over  the  plans  of  architects  and  that  he  took  a 
new  interest  in  furniture  and  draperies,  and  pottered 
about  asking  questions  about  interiors.  Miss  Rachel 
recognized  the  symptoms  as  indicative  of  an  inten 
tion  to  break  away  from  the  bachelor  estate,  and  she 
was  sorry.  She  preferred  to  keep  Donald  to  herself, 
as  only  sisters  often  do  with  brothers. 

In  reply  to  the  question  which  was  casually  put  as 
she  passed  his  cup  and  saucer,  her  brother  answered, 
"Islington  is  bound  to  grow,  Rachel,  and  one  of 
these  days  it  will  have  a  park  and  a  boulevard,  and  a 
graded  avenue  straight  to  the  ocean.  I  bought  that 
land  partly  as  an  investment,  but  really  with  a  view 
to  building  a  home.  When  I  marry,  I  shall  want  a 
new  home  for  my  wife.  This  house  must  always 
belong  to  you.  I  know  what  associations  it  has  for 
us,  but  my  wife  might  think  it  old-fashioned." 

"You  speak  of  your  wife  as  if  you  had  already 
selected  the  lady.  Who  is  she?"  For  the  life  of 


26  ELEANOR   LEE 

her,  Rachel  could  not  help  shutting  her  lips  tightly 
and  looking  with  a  certain  disapproval  at  her  brother. 
He  took  no  notice.  An  elation,  rising  like  the  sun  in 
the  morning,  spread  from  his  strong  chin  to  his 
broad  brow;  he  looked  as  if  he  already  grasped  good 
fortune. 

"Eleanor  Lee  is  the  lady,  but  I  haven't  asked  her 
yet.  That  is  a  mere  form  to  be  gone  through  how 
ever." 

"Oh,  Donald,  Donald,  why  not  the  moon?  Elea 
nor  thinks  you  are  middle-aged." 

"  I  am  barely  thirty,"  he  said  with  much  offense  in 
his  tone. 

"That  is  old  in  the  eyes  of  nineteen.  1  know  her 
age.  I  remember  when  she  was  born.  Why,  my 
dear,  Eleanor  Lee  is  not  much  more  than  a  school 
girl.  She  is  really  not  yet  in  society." 

"Her  father's  death  postponed  her  coming  out, 
but  that  doesn't  count.  I  would  rather  have  a  wife 
younger  than  myself,  one  whom  I  may  mould  and 
impress  with  my  own  opinions.  Now,  Rachel,  don't 
set  yourself  against  me.  I  thought  you  were  so  fond 
of  the  Lees." 

"I  am,  and  especially  of  Eleanor,  but  Donald,  she 
will  make  you  miserable  if  you  marry  her,  though  I 
don't  think  you  will  gain  her  consent.  No  two  peo 
ple  were  ever  more  unsuited  by  training  and  tempera 
ment  than  you  and  she.  Don't  I  know  ?  Why  Elea 
nor  has  been  in  my  Bible  class  for  the  last  six  years. 
Why  don't  you  court  Mattie  Dunmore  ?  " 

"  I  don't  flatter  myself  that  Mattie  would  have  me, 
and  I  am  certain  that  I  don't  want  Mattie.  Princess 
Eleanor  is  the  wife  I  want.  I've  meant  to  win  her 


SUIT  OF  DONALD  WAUGH  27 

ever  since  she  was  a  child  in  short  frocks.  She's 
most  unusual  in  the  quality  of  her  mind." 

Rachel  sighed.  She  said  no  more.  From  long  ex 
perience  she  knew  the  futility  of  argument  with 
Donald.  When  he  had  made  up  his  mind,  he 
wouldn't  change.  It  was  could  not  rather  than 
would  not,  and  he  was  never  influenced  by  sugges 
tions  from  the  other  side,  or  open  to  advice.  The 
men  of  her  family  were  like  that,  indomitable,  loyal, 
straightforward,  clean,  but  narrow,  prejudiced  and 
contrary,  not  easy  to  live  with,  though  fancying  them 
selves  so.  Their  ideal  was  the  submissive  woman, 
the  woman  who  yields.  Rachel  knew  that  Eleanor 
Lee  would  not  mature  into  that  sort  of  woman. 

Donald  was  disturbed.  He  divined  Rachel's  atti 
tude  and  understood  that  it  was  as  fixed  as  his  own. 
The  Waughs  were  alike.  She  was  both  sister  and 
mother  to  the  man,  for  their  mother  had  died  when 
he  was  an  infant.  He  preferred  her  to  be  pleased. 
What  he  did  not  guage,  for  he  had  no  plummet 
to  fathom  it,  was  the  depth  of  his  incapacity  to  see 
any  side  of  a  proposition  except  the  one  that  for  him 
embodied  the  personal  equation. 

"  You  might  wish  me  luck,  Rachel,"  he  said,  rising 
from  the  table. 

"I  do,  Donald,  and  with  all  my  heart,"  she  an 
swered,  but  as  she  left  the  room,  she  added  to 
herself,  "It  will  do  you  no  good."  Nor  was  she 
very  sorry.  In  her  view  a  passing  pang,  though 
acute,  was  less  to  be  dreaded  than  the  lifelong 
wretchedness  of  incompatibility. 

Miss  Rachel  went  to  inspect  her  kitchen  and  re 
frigerator  and  talk  with  her  cook.  Donald  proceeded 


28  ELEANOR   LEE 

to  his  woollen  mills.  He  was  the  owner  of  a  large 
business  and  had  many  interests.  Outside  Islington 
he  was  spoken  of  as  a  man  likely  to  rise. 

"I'll  have  the  oversight  of  Donald  for  some  time 
yet,"  said  Miss  Rachel  to  herself  that  afternoon,  as 
she  went  to  his  room  and  laid  out  the  dress-suit,  the 
shirt  with  the  gold  studs,  and  the  rest  of  his  evening 
toilette.  When  he  sallied  forth  resplendent  the  plain 
little  old  maid  sister  in  the  background  had  con 
tributed  her  share  to  his  glory.  He  took  her  con 
tinual  attention  to  his  comfort  as  he  took  the  atmos 
phere:  he  had  never  done  without  it,  and  it  did  not 
occur  to  him  to  be  in  the  least  thankful. 

Donald  went  home  with  the  Lees  after  the  concert, 
and  they  had  a  little  feast  of  hot  oysters  and  coffee 
in  the  dining-room.  Then  Kathleen  went  to  bed  and 
before  long  her  mother  followed  her.  Donald  gave 
no  sign  of  immediate  departure,  and  Eleanor  who 
was  at  the  piano,  playing  in  a  reminiscent  style,  some 
of  the  tunes  of  the  evening,  made  a  little  gesture  of 
appeal  as  her  mother  passed  her.  But  Mrs.  Lee  was 
too  weary  to  sit  up  longer.  This  first  plunge  into 
anything  more  social  than  the  prayer-meeting  had 
been  something  of  a  trial. 

Donald  stood  in  front  of  the  mantelpiece,  gazing 
around  the  cozy  library,  the  shelves  so  lined  with 
books,  the  busts,  the  pictures,  the  desk,  the  soft 
cushiony  armchairs.  Mrs.  Lee's  work-basket  with 
its  confusion  of  sewing  materials  added  the  finishing 
touch  of  homely  comfort  to  the  place. 

"Eleanor,"  he  said  very  gently,  as  she  continued 
to  play. 

The  girl  glanced  over  her  shoulder  at  him,  nodded, 


OF  DONALD  WAUGH  29 

and  went  on  with  her  soft  trills  and  flourishes,  hum 
ming  a  little  tune. 

"Leave  the  piano,  if  you  please,  and  come  talk 
to  me." 

"Listen  while  you  talk,  you  mean,"  she  playfully 
corrected,  pausing  as  she  crossed  the  room  to  pick 
up  the  big  yellow  cat  from  the  velvet  cushion  where 
he  blissfully  reposed  and  take  him  in  her  arms.  She 
seated  herself  with  the  cat  on  her  lap,  calling  him 
pet  names. 

"Do  put  down  that  cat,"  the  man  exclaimed  im 
patiently.  "  How  can  I  speak  to  you  seriously  and 
secure  your  attention  when  you  are  hugging  a  cat. 
I  loathe  cats." 

"And  I  love  them,"  she  replied  with  emphasis. 
"Tis  as  well  that  this  one  lives  here,  isn't  it?  He 
would  not  fare  well  at  your  hands,  poor  old  pussy!  " 

" Oh,  I  would  not  abuse  him,"  said  Donald.  "I'm 
not  a  brute.  Cats  are  very  well  in  their  place, 
but  their  place  is  the  kitchen,  not  the  parlor." 

"This  one  sleeps  on  the  foot  of  my  bed,"  re 
marked  Eleanor,  stroking  its  long  golden  fur  most 
lovingly.  Donald  overlooked  her  remark. 

"What  I  have  to  say  to  you,  Eleanor,  will  not  take 
very  long.  Please  attend.  You  cannot  have  misun 
derstood  the  purpose  of  my  frequent  calls,  nor  failed 
to  see  my  deep  admiration  for  your  rare  character.  I 
am  sure  I  have  not  made  a  mistake  in  fixing  my 
affections  on  you.  I  ask  you,  Eleanor,  to  accept  the 
love  of  a  man  who  offers  you  his  whole  heart,  and  a 
strong  arm  to  lean  upon  in  the  journey  of  life.  I  beg 
you  to  accept  my  hand.  Will  you,  dear  Eleanor,  be 
come  my  wife?" 


30  ELEANOR   LEE 

As  nothing  had  led  up  to  this  proposal  the  girl  was 
thoroughly  surprised.  The  avowal  was  poured 
forth  in  measured  tones,  with  a  manner  of  the 
utmost  confidence.  Mr.  Waugh  paused  for  a  reply. 
He  anticipated  a  yes,  perhaps  a  grateful  one,  and 
took  a  step  nearer.  Another  instant  and  he  hoped  he 
might  take  her  into  his  arms.  But  he  was  not  going 
to  frighten  her.  "  Poor  little  bird,"  he  thought  with 
chivalry,  "how  she  trembles.  I  have  been  too  sud 
den.  I  have  alarmed  her,  I  should  have  been  more 
tactful." 

But  tact  and  Donald  were  not  often  associated. 

"  One  little  word,  Eleanor,  just  one,  dearest,  will  be 
a  pledge  for  life,  and  then  may  I  claim  you  as  my 
wife  to  be  ?"  He  advanced  eagerly. 

Eleanor  jumped  up,  and  dropped  the  cat,  her  eyes 
blazing.  "  Have  you  lost  your  wits  altogether,  Don 
ald,"  she  exclaimed.  "What  madness  has  come 
over  you  ?  Why  I  wouldn't  marry  you  if  you  were 
the  Emperor  of  India.  You  ask  for  one  little  word; 
here  it  is.  No.  And  you  have  taken  a  mean  ad 
vantage  of  me,  speaking  so  when  mother  is  not 
here.  Please  go  home  directly  and  forget  this 
nonsense.  Is  it  perhaps  a  play  ?" 

A  dull  red  spot  grew  under  each  of  the  man's  high 
cheek  bones. 

"  You  are  only  a  child  after  all,"  he  said.  "  I  am 
sorry  I  have  startled  you.  But  I  will  ask  you  again, 
when  you  are  older  and  a  woman.  Understand  me, 
Eleanor,  it  is  but  deferred,  I  can  wait.  Your  mind 
may  change." 

"Never,"  said  Eleanor  resolutely,  and  so  they 
parted.  She  ran  to  her  mother's  room  and  told  her 


SUIT  OF  DONALD  WAUGH  31 

everything  between  crying  and  laughing,  and  Donald 
strode  moodily  home,  angry  with  himself,  with  her, 
and  with  all  the  world. 

That  he  had  made  a  spectacle  of  himself  that 
moved  Eleanor  to  mirth  when  she  thought  of  it  next 
day  was  not  a  consideration  that  affected  him  in  the 
least.  He  was  amazed  at  her  scornful  rejection,  but 
not  humiliated,  indignant  beyond  words,  but  as 
resolved  on  his  object  as  ever  hunter  who  pursued  a 
receding  quarry,  and  on  the  whole,  he  inclined  to  set 
her  astonishing  behavior  down  to  maiden  coyness 
and  an  undisciplined  mind.  "  She  has  been  spoiled," 
he  thought.  "She  was  never  taught  proper  respect 
for  the  man  who  should  court  her.  The  Judge  was 
a  mere  puppet  in  his  wife's  hands,  and  far  too 
indulgent  to  Eleanor.  I'll  have  her  yet,  and  I'll  call  as 
usual,  ignoring  her  folly  of  this  evening.  I  hope  her 
mother  will  see  what  a  mistake  Eleanor  is  making. 
Though  I  ought  to  have  taken  Rachel's  hint  and 
waited!  A  woman  does  see  more  clearly  than  a  man 
in  some  things." 

This  was  a  large  step  forward  in  common  sense, 
and  it  may  be  inferred  that  his  disappointment  did 
Donald  no  real  harm.  But  he  had  much  to  learn. 
Humility  is  the  hand-maiden  of  love,  and  it  was  said 
by  Him  who  spoke  with  authority,  and  the  word  has 
never  been  repealed,  "The  meek  shall  inherit  the 
earth." 

Miss  Rachel  exercised  great  patience  with  her 
brother  for  the  next  few  days,  bearing  with  his 
petulance,  and  brooding  over  him  as  good  women 
do,  when  men  of  their  families  are  hurt  or  in  trouble. 
Around  the  head  of  the  plain  spinster  well  past  her 


32  ELEANOR   LEE 

youth,  angels  just  now  discerned  an  aureole,  invisible 
to  other  eyes  than  theirs. 

Meanwhile  the  Lees  suddenly  took  flight  and  went 
away  on  a  long  visit  to  friends  in  Baltimore. 


WHEN  HALF  GODS  GO 

MRS.  LEE  and  her  girls  took  a  sudden  resolu 
tion  to  have  a  change  of  scene.  Living 
simply  as  they  did,  with  only  the  faithful 
Norah  indoors,  and  her  cousin,  a  gray  little  Irishman 
who  was  gardener  and  furnace  man  and  general 
servitor  for  every  want  beyond  Norah's  willing 
strength  to  fill,  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  pack  the 
trunks,  buy  the  tickets,  and  make  a  quiet  flitting. 
Since  the  Judge's  death,  they  had  been  much  alone, 
and  Mrs.  Lee  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  send  a 
good-bye  to  any  except  her  nearest  neighbors,  so 
that  when  one  afternoon  Donald  Waugh  called  in 
fulfillment  of  his  intention  not  to  stay  away,  he  was 
astonished  to  learn  that  all  the  ladies  were  absent. 
Norah  volunteered  the  information  that  they  might 
remain  in  Baltimore  some  months,  and  Donald  turned 
from  the  door  with  the  feeling  that  it  had  been  shut 
in  his  face.  Vexed  with  Eleanor  before  the  visit,  he 
was  now  furious  with  her  mother,  and  went  gloomily 
homeward  in  a  very  bad  temper  indeed,  to  find  that 
his  sister  had  invited  her  great  favorite,  Mattie  Dun- 
more,  to  dine  and  spend  the  evening.  So  he  had  to 
put  his  crossness  in  his  pocket  for  the  time. 

Miss  Dunmore  was  a  nice  girl,  but  had  little  of  the 
charm  which  belonged  to  Eleanor  Lee.  She  was  just 
a  nice  girl,  very  popular  and  a  thorough  gentle- 

33 


34  ELEANOR   LEE 

woman.  Likewise  she  was  the  possessor  of  what  in 
those  days  was  considered  a  tidy  sum  of  money, 
some  three  hundred  thousand  dollars.  An  orphan, 
she  lived  with  an  uncle  and  aunt  with  whom  she  was 
not  quite  happy.  Rachel  had  long  ago  in  match 
making  moments,  fancied  how  the  fitness  of  things 
would  "be  satisfied  should  Donald  court  Mattie. 

As  Donald,  not  in  the  best  of  humors,  presented 
himself  in  the  dining-room,  there  rose  to  meet  him 
with  hand  outstretched  a  compact  little  lady,  trim 
and  neat  from  her  braided  brown  head  to  her  daintily 
shod  feet.  She  wore  a  dress  of  rich  black  silk  with 
an  edging  of  lace  at  throat  and  wrists,  and  around 
her  neck  was  a  slender  gold  chain  which  ended  in 
the  watch  pocket  at  her  belt.  Hoops  were  coming 
in,  and  Miss  Mattie  had  ventured  to  wear  a  small 
one;  it  was  to  her  credit  that  she  managed  it  with 
a  good  deal  of  grace.  She  smiled  at  Donald  so 
genially  that  he  felt  the  ice  within  him  melt.  Here 
at  least  was  a  girl  without  silly  caprices  who  had 
the  ability  to  know  a  good  thing  when  she  saw 
it.  Donald's  wounded  vanity  was  insensibly  soothed 
as  Mattie  led  him  on  to  talk,  first  of  the  busi 
ness  situation,  and  then  of  the  clouds  gathering 
on  the  national  horizon.  She  was  a  keen  politician 
and  could  hold  her  own  in  conversation  with  a  well- 
informed  man  and  for  the  first  time  in  their  acquaint 
ance  Donald  took  note  of  her  personality  and  decided 
that  she  was  worth  cultivating.  Her  maid  came  for 
her  at  half-past  eight,  but  her  hostess  would  not  let 
her  leave  so  early,  and  sent  the  maid  back  saying  that 
she  would  see  that  Miss  Mattie  was  safely  taken 
home  after  awhile.  At  ten  o'clock  with  profuse 


WHEN  HALF  GODS  GO       35 

thanks  for  a  pleasant  evening,  she  put  on  her  hood 
and  her  warm  mantilla  and  Donald  gallantly  escorted 
her  down  the  steps  of  his  home,  Miss  Rachel  linger 
ing  in  the  doorway  to  say  good-night.  The  man 
offered  his  arm  as  custom  in  that  day  enjoined,  and 
the  young  woman  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course. 
The  hand  she  rested  on  it  was  feather  light,  but  it 
conveyed  in  that  soft  touch  something  feminine  that 
did  not  scorn  protection.  Islington  streets  were 
tranquil  under  the  maple  boughs,  and  girls  might  and 
did  safely  walk  there  unattended,  but  this  did  not 
alter  the  fact  that  if  by  chance  a  peril  came,  a  girl 
much  preferred  having  somebody  at  her  side  to  meet 
and  vanquish  it.  Policemen,  as  is  the  habit  of  their 
kind,  were  never  on  hand  at  the  instant  they  were 
needed,  and  who  knew  at  what  moment  a  lurking 
highwayman  might  start  from  behind  a  shadowy 
tree-trunk  ?  Mattie  Dunmore  who  had  never  been 
selected  for  much  attention  by  the  young  men  of  the 
village  was  pleased  to  be  walking  home  at  ten 
o'clock  with  Donald  Waugh,  and  on  his  part  he  was 
surprised  that  he  had  never  before  noticed  how 
sensible  and  appreciative  and  well-mannered  his 
companion  was.  Not  giddy  like  Eleanor,  he 
thought,  with  his  smouldering  resentment  against 
that  disdainful  girl.  Not  beautiful  like  Eleanor, 
either,  whispered  something  in  his  heart,  but  out  of 
his  childhood  copy-book,  came  a  tricksy  sprite, 
breathing  in  his  ear.  Handsome  is  that  handsome 
does.  Instantly  though  quite  unintentionally  Mattie 
had  interested  him,  had  made  an  impression,  and  at  a 
moment  when  the  man  was  susceptible.  What  the 
great  Dr.  Chalmers  called  the  expulsive  power  of  a 


36  ELEANOR   LEE 

new  affection,  that  evening  thrust  its  thin  entering 
wedge  into  Donald's  thoughts.  He  went  home  and 
slept  as  if  girls  and  their  caprices  did  not  exist. 

The  journey  to  Baltimore  was  a  delight  to  the 
mother  and  daughters,  to  the  latter  having  the  zest 
of  novelty.  The  evening  of  Donald's  proposal, 
Eleanor  had  thrown  herself  on  her  knees  beside  her 
mother's  bed,  and  in  a  hysterical  outburst  half  cry 
ing,  half  laughing,  had  told  her  all  about  it.  The 
mother  had  felt  a  strange  pang;  her  little  girl  was 
tasting  the  cup  that  every  woman  must  sometime 
drink,  honey-sweet,  or  flavored  with  bitter  herbs, 
according  to  her  temperament  and  circumstances. 
Of  one  thing  she  was  assured,  Eleanor  was  not 
yet  ready  for  love.  She  had  still  an  unawakened 
heart. 

"If  you  could  return  Donald  Waugh's  love,  dear, 
you  would  have  a  very  pleasant  life,"  she  said. 

"Mother!"  exclaimed  Eleanor,  aghast.  "I'd  die 
before  I'd  consent  to  marry  that  man.  Think  of  his 
big  clumsy  hands,  that  he  never  knows  what  to  do 
with,  of  his  red  hair,  of  his  odious  pomposity.  I 
suppose  he's  good,  but  goodness  is  not  everything. 
He's  dreadful.  Father  could  not  bear  him.  He  said 
he  was  a  fearful  bore,  and  he  is.  The  presump 
tion  of  his  daring  to  think  that  he  might  kiss  me! 
I  saw  that  he  meant  to!  I  should  never,  never  look 
at  myself  in  the  glass  again  if  I  had  let  him  do 
such  a  thing.  And,  mother,  he's  at  least  thirty  years 
old!" 

To  nineteen  thirty  appears  venerable!  Particularly 
when  nineteen  has  not  yet  left  the  shelter  of  the 
mother's  brooding  wing.  Mrs.  Lee  dropped  the 


WHEN  HALF  GODS  GO       37 

matter,  made  Eleanor  creep  into  bed  by  her,  and  lay 
awake  long  after  the  child  was  in  dreamland. 

From  a  worldly  view- point,  Donald  Waugh,  pros 
perous,  rising  and  most  respectable,  was  a  very  desir 
able  son-in-law,  but  Mrs.  Lee  knew  that  Eleanor  in 
her  sweet  girlish  inexperience  would  not  consider  mat 
ters  of  convenience,  and  that  the  somewhat  encum 
bered  Lee  estate  would  never  be  relieved  by  a  rich 
marriage  on  Eleanor's  part.  The  girl  was  romantic 
as  her  father  had  been.  The  mother  sighed,  but  her 
sigh  was  not  sorrowful;  she  rejoiced  that  her  child 
was  too  pure  of  nature  to  give  herself  where  she 
could  not  yield  her  whole  affection.  She  was  glad 
to  hope  that  Eleanor  might  yet  find  entire  happiness 
in  marriage  as  her  mother  had.  And  then  she  de 
cided  on  the  visit  that  would  do  them  all  good. 

In  quiet  Islington,  the  little  household  of  women 
had  not  yet  felt  the  oppression  in  the  atmosphere 
that  boded  the  swiftly  coming  storm.  Indeed,  few 
people  in  the  North  in  the  years  immediately  before 
the  Civil  War  were  keyed  to  the  tension  which  was 
everywhere  felt  in  the  South.  Maryland,  as  a  border 
state,  was  divided  in  sentiment.  Mrs.  Lee  found  her 
brother-in-law  and  his  family  deeply  exercised  about 
State  rights;  vehement  discussions  took  place  in 
every  social  gathering;  the  burning  question  was 
what  would  the  South  do,  as  a  whole.  When  Lin 
coln  was  inaugurated,  South  Carolina,  acting  on  the 
theory  that  as  the  states  had  originally  come  to 
gether  of  their  own  accord,  to  form  a  federation, 
each  had  as  an  individual,  the  privilege  of  dissolving 
the  connection  at  pleasure,  seceded  by  a  formal  act 
of  her  legislature.  From  that  pregnant  hour,  the 


38  ELEANOR   LEE 

country  was  in  a  ferment,  and  new  issues,  new 
strifes,  new  dangers  were  born  daily. 

Eleanor  and  Kathleen  were  at  once  swept  into  the 
whirl  of  such  gayety  as  they  had  never  known,  and 
at  the  same  time  confronted  with  excitements  hitherto 
undreamed  of.  Their  cousins  were  busy  making 
secession  flags  of  silk  which  they  used  to  drape  their 
rooms,  or,  in  miniature,  pinned  to  their  gowns  as 
badges,  or  presented  to  their  admirers.  Parties  of 
girls  eagerly  contended  over  the  situation  and  when 
union  and  disunion  sentiment  clashed  in  the  draw 
ing-room,  as  it  often  did,  the  jar  was  ominous  of  a 
sterner  and  more  deadly  conflict  to  come.  People 
went  about,  grave-eyed,  bewildered,  uncertain  of 
the  morrow,  and  with  an  unspoken  dread  in  their 
souls,  but  there  was  notwithstanding  a  feverish  de 
sire  for  pleasure,  and  added  to  this  a  tendency  to 
social  display  which  were  in  marked  contrast  with 
anything  the  country  had  known. 

"I  came  here  for  a  quiet  breathing  spell,"  confided 
Mrs.  Lee  to  her  sister,  "  and  lo,  my  girls  are  going  to 
teas  and  dinners  and  dances,  as  they  never  did  be 
fore;  and  Kathleen  is  as  yet  a  child  in  the  school 
room,  while  Eleanor  has  not  come  out." 

"I'm  doubtful,  Alice,"  was  Mrs.  Emmet's  reply, 
"  whether  you  will  feel  like  giving  Eleanor  a  formal 
introduction  in  these  days.  The  times  that  will  try 
women's  souls,  if  not  men's,  will  soon  be  upon  us; 
let  the  girls  enjoy  themselves.  Baltimore  was  never 
brighter  than  this  winter,  and  all  you  have  to  do  is  to 
watch  that  your  Nellie  does  not  lose  her  heart  to  some 
one  of  the  young  officers  who  are  her  partners  in  the 
cotillion.  I  approve  of  your  prohibiting  the  round 


WHEN  HALF  GODS  GO       39 

dance  for  your  girls.  I  allowed  Emily  to  waltz  only 
with  her  brothers  until  she  was  engaged.  Now  of 
course  she  dances  with  Jim."' 

"Eleanor's  heart  is  not  in  danger  yet,"  said  the 
mother  confidently.  "It  is  a  folded  bud,  or  a  forti 
fied  town,  or  something  else  inaccessible." 

Mrs.  Emmet  laughed.  "  You  were  always  poetical, 
sister,"  she  exclaimed,  when  she  had  recovered  her 
composure.  "I  am  not  sure  that  Eleanor  Lee  is  not 
already  in  love  with  Lieutenant  Osbourn.  There  is 
no  doubt  about  his  devotion  to  her.  If  you  have  not 
seen  it,  you  are  blind." 

Mrs.  Lee  was  very  much  disturbed. 

"Who  is  he,  this  Lieutenant  Osbourn?  Eleanor 
has  had  half  a  dozen  of  these  young  fellows  in  uni 
form,  hanging  about  her.  I  have  not  observed  any 
special  approval  on  her  side,  and  there's  safety  in 
numbers,  you  know." 

"Harry  Osbourn  is  from  Ohio,  a  clever  young 
lawyer  before  he  volunteered  and  a  man  of  mark, 
my  husband  says;  one  of  the  men  sure  to  be  on  the 
winning  list.  I  fancy  he's  poor  enough,  but  a  girl 
won't  care  for  that,  if  he  loves  her  and  she  loves 
him." 

"Is  he  a  Christian  man?"  asked  Mrs.  Lee  seri 
ously.  Again  Mrs.  Emmet  laughed. 

"  You  are  a  Puritan,  my  dear.  He's  not  a  Pagan, 
but  whether  or  not  he's  a  church  member,  I  haven't 
the  faintest  idea.  Surely  you  will  never  make  a  point 
of  that  when  it  comes  to  giving  your  consent  to  a 
daughter's  marriage." 

"I  should  make  no  stand  on  church-membership," 
said  Mrs.  Lee,  "  but  I  shall  feel  safer  about  my  girls 


40  ELEANOR   LEE 

if  in  choosing  husbands,  they  choose  God-fearing 
men,  such  as  their  father  was,  and  our  father  too. 
A  man  rises  no  higher  than  his  ideal,  and  there  can 
be  no  loftier  ideal  for  a  man  than  Jesus  Christ.  If 
we  are  drifting  as  a  nation  upon  evil  days,  we  shall 
need  more  than  ever  to  stand  fast  and  show  our 
colors  as  Christians." 

Mrs.  Emmet  was  silenced.  She  had  lost  much  of 
herfchildhood's  faith,  and  grown  away  from  the  teach 
ings  of  her  father's  house.  Mrs.  Lee's  words  brought 
vividly  back  a  memory  of  her  youth,  when  there  was 
daily  prayer  in  the  home,  and  her  mother  had  felt 
and  spoken  as  her  sister  did  now.  At  the  moment, 
there  was  no  time  for  further  converse.  The  door 
opened  and  a  merry  troop  of  young  people  came  in, 
among  them  Lieutenant  Osbourn  in  evidently  devoted 
attendance  upon  Eleanor.  Mrs.  Lee  said  nothing  but 
she  watched  her  daughter  with  tender  anxiety  in  the 
next  few  days.  She  saw  Eleanor's  eyes  brighten  and 
her  cheek  flush  when  the  Lieutenant  was  announced; 
she  saw  too,  the  reserve  with  which  the  girl  sur 
rounded  herself  when  in  his  company.  Eleanor  Lee 
was  not  to  be  too  lightly  won.  Yet,  day  by  day, 
love  waved  aside  the  shield  of  maidenly  coyness,  and 
Eleanor,  unconsciously  absorbed,  instinctively  resist 
ing,  yet  slowly  yielding,  was  awakened  at  last.  Her 
mother  had  taken  her  to  Baltimore  a  child.  She 
would  go  back  to  Islington,  a  woman. 

The  evening  before  their  return  Lieutenant  Os 
bourn  formally  asked  Mrs.  Lee's  consent  to  his 
wooing  of  Eleanor.  He  told  her  of  his  family,  his 
prospects,  his  love  for  her  daughter,  and  he  satisfied 
her  that  his  upbringing  had  been  like  Eleanor's,  in  a 


WHEN  HALF  GODS  GO       41 

Christian  home.  His  record  was  unstained.  He  was 
handsome,  candid,  and  debonair;  five  years  older 
than  Eleanor,  and  her  mother  did  not  wonder  at 
Eleanor's  preference  for  him. 

"  Have  you  spoken  to  her  ?" 

"Not  in  words,"  was  the  answer. 

"Only  in  looks,  and  flowers,  and  silence,  and 
homage,"  said  Mrs.  Lee,  giving  him  her  hand.  "I 
think,  Mr.  Osbourn,  that  my  daughter  likes  you. 
I  give  you  my  best  wishes." 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Eleanor  went  home  to 
Islington  in  June,  when  the  roses  were  in  their  glory, 
an  engaged  girl,  her  heart  with  her  lover,  whose 
regiment  was  now  on  duty  in  Washington.  Her 
mother  had  been  a  bit  disposed  to  be  compassionate 
over  the  suffering  of  Donald  Waugh,  as  she  had 
fancied  him  cast  in  iron  mould,  and  had  supposed 
he  would  at  some  time  renew  his  siege  of  Eleanor's 
obdurate  heart.  But  the  first  news  that  she  heard 
when  again  established  in  the  cottage,  was  that  Mr. 
Waugh  was  spending  much  of  his  leisure  with 
Mattie  Dunmore.  It  was  really  a  great  relief,  though 
no  one  spoke  of  them  as  lovers.  Later,  when  Donald's 
business  took  a  mighty  leap  forward,  and  his  con 
tracts  were  multiplied,  the  mother  had  some  regrets 
and  misgivings.  Why  could  not  Eleanor  have  mated 
at  home  ? 

Days  came  and  went,  those  strange  early  days  of 
the  Civil  War. 

One  evening  as  the  little  family  sat  at  dinner, 
Harry  Osbourn  suddenly  appeared,  and  without  the 
slightest  prelude  declared  that  he  had  come  for  his 
wife. 


42  ELEANOR  LEE 

"  I  want  to  marry  Eleanor  without  an  hour's  de- 
Jay,"  he  exclaimed  peremptorily. 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean,  Harry?"  said 
Eleanor's  mother. 

"Precisely  what  I  say.  1  have  leave  of  absence 
for  forty-eight  hours.  I  wish  to  be  married  to  Elea 
nor  to-morrow  morning  and  to  carry  her  back  to 
Washington  with  me  to-morrow  night.  We  are  on 
the  eve  of  tremendous  troubles.  I  may  be  ordered 
South  at  any  hour.  I  may  be  wounded,  or  killed  in 
battle.  In  the  one  case,  I  want  Eleanor  to  be  able  to 
come  to  me  ;  in  the  other,  I  want  her  to  bear  my 
name.  I  cannot  be  put  off,  darling,"  he  said,  turning 
to  Eleanor,  "you  haven't  the  wish  to  oppose  me, 
have  you  ?  You  will  be  my  wife  to-morrow  morn 
ing.  Will  you  not?  Say  yes,  and  I'll  go  out  and 
engage  the  minister  now." 

"Eleanor  has  nothing  ready,"  interposed  Mrs.  Lee. 

"Oh,  what  do  we  care  for  clothes,  at  such  a  time 
as  this,"  expostulated  the  impetuous  lover.  He 
turned  from  Mrs.  Lee,  took  Eleanor  in  his  arms,  and 
kissed  her  with  her  mother  looking  on. 

"Say  yes,  my  darling.  Say  '  Harry,  I'll  do  what 
ever  you  ask,' "  he  insisted. 

Eleanor  blushed,  but  she  lifted  up  her  face  to  his, 
with  brave  eyes,  and  put  her  arms  around  his  neck. 

"Yes,  Harry  dear,  I'll  do  whatever  you  ask,"  she 
answered. 

They  were  married  at  ten  the  next  day,  and  at 
three  they  were  enroute  to  Washington.  To  the 
mother  the  affair  bore  the  unreality  of  a  dream. 
Only  when  the  days  passed,  empty  without  her 
bright  Eleanor,  when  Kathleen,  who  had  never  been 


WHEN  HALF  GODS  GO       43 

separated  from  her  sister,  drooped  and  lost  her 
gayety,  when  she  packed  away  the  things  Eleanor 
did  not  want,  and  sent  her  those  she  did,  she  began  to 
comprehend  the  finality  of  this  step  that  had  been  so 
sudden.  Mrs.  Lee  suffered  acutely  from  self-blame. 
To  her  thought,  Eleanor  had  had  a  very  brief  and 
hasty  wooing.  She  feared  she  had  herself  made  a 
mistake  in  yielding  consent  so  readily  and  letting  her 
child  wed  one  who  was  almost  a  stranger.  The  first 
marriage  in  a  family  is  not  unlike  the  first  death,  in 
the  vacancy  it  leaves,  and  the  need  for  readjustment 
that  follows  in  its  wake.  No  wonder  the  bride's 
mother  often  has  much  ado  to  keep  back  her  tears; 
she  is  bidding  farewell  to  a  whole  heart-full  of  pleas 
ant  occupations  that  are  to  be  hers  no  more.  And 
she  is  tormented  at  the  best  of  times  by  a  vague  un 
certainty  as  to  whether  the  new  life,  and  the  new 
love,  are  to  be  rich  with  blessings  for  her  darling. 

Kathleen  drooped  and  was  lonely,  so  Mrs.  Lee 
bestirred  herself  to  comfort  her.  Also,  dimly  visible 
on  the  horizon's  rim  was  the  star  of  another  lover, 
who  should,  later,  seek  Kathleen.  But  that  was  not 
yet.  Kathleen  was  very  young. 


W 'All 'ING  DAYS 

WHEN  Donald  Waugh  heard  the  news  of 
Eleanor's  marriage,  he  simply  sulked.  No 
other  word  so  clearly  expresses  a  state  of 
mind  in  which  a  person  obstinately  refuses  to  be 
appeased,  although  he  has  no  valid  occasion  for  re 
sentment.  That  Eleanor  had  been  as  free  as  a  bird, 
in  no  way  bound,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  did 
not  in  the  least  soften  the  force  of  the  blow;  and  for 
some  days  he  was  in  a  temper  best  described  by  the 
phrase,  the  black  dog  on  the  back.  His  black  looks 
were  in  evidence  at  the  mills  and  everybody  from  the 
bookkeeper  to  the  office  boy,  felt  afraid  that  some 
sort  of  dreadful  business  crisis  was  impending.  At 
home  Donald  was  moody  and  silent,  eating  his  meals 
under  protest,  and  curtly  answering  his  sister  when 
she  spoke  to  him.  As  for  Miss  Dunmore,  he  left  her 
severely  to  her  own  company,  not  going  near  her 
house  for  days.  She,  naturally  annoyed,  took  the 
best  possible  means  of  meeting  her  lover's  desertion, 
if  lover  he  were.  To  do  him  justice,  he  had  not  con 
sidered  himself  in  that  light.  Without  a  word  to 
any  one  Miss  Dunmore  packed  her  trunks,  and  joined 
the  great  procession  which  was  ever  tending  towards 
Washington.  The  first  intimation  of  her  absence 
came  to  Donald  in  a  letter  received  by  Miss  Rachel 
Waugh  and  opened  by  her  one  evening  as  they  sat 

44 


WAITING  DAYS  45 

on  the  veranda,  where  in  the  lingering  twilight  her 
brother  was  reading  his  evening  paper.  As  Donald 
had  continued  to  bear  himself  as  a  martyr,  Miss 
Rachel,  from  her  earlier  sympathy  had  veered  to  ex 
cusable  vexation,  and  she  took  something  like  posi 
tive  pleasure  in  giving  him  her  surprising  informa 
tion.  She  knew  it  would  be  rather  a  shock. 

"When  did  you  last  call  on  Mattie,  brother?"  she 
asked  innocently. 

He  replied  rather  testily  by  another  question. 

''Why  do  you  inquire?" 

"Oh,  from  curiosity.  I  did  not  know  that  she  had 
left  us.  Everybody  is  going  it  seems.  On  to  Wash 
ington  is  the  rule  just  now." 

The  man  repressed  an  exclamation.  With  appar 
ent  unconcern  he  awaited  further  developments, 
aware  that  Miss  Rachel  had  some  startling  news  to 
impart. 

"Mattie  feels  that  in  the  state  of  the  country  every 
patriotic  woman  who  is  without  ties,  should  offer 
her  services.  She  has  joined  Miss  Dix  and  her  corps 
of  army  nurses  at  the  capital.  I  hope  she'll  see 
something  of  Eleanor  Osbourn.  I  heard  to-day  that 
Eleanor's  husband  has  been  ordered  to  the  front." 

" Mattie  Dunmore  gone  as  a  nurse!  What  egre 
gious  folly!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Waugh.  "Her  uncle 
should  have  forbidden  it.  She  is  too  young  and  in 
experienced  to  go  among  such  scenes.  Perfectly 
absurd  I  call  it!  " 

"I  wonder  she  didn't  tell  you  of  her  intention," 
remarked  Miss  Rachel,  musingly  and  gazing  at  Donald 
with  an  interrogation  in  her  eyes. 

"Well,  she  couldn't  very  well  as  it  has  happened. 


46  ELEANOR  LEE 

The  fact  is  I've  been  so  broken  up  over  Eleanor's 
silly  step  in  marrying  that  popinjay  and  throwing 
herself  away,  that  I've  not  gone  anywhere.  I've  not 
been  near  Miss  Dunmore  for  a  month." 

"After  haunting  her  house,  daily,  for  a  previous 
month!  Why  Donald!  I'm  ashamed  of  you." 

Mr.  Waugh  rose,  folded  his  paper,  and  turned  to 
go  indoors. 

"  You  will  oblige  me  much,"  he  said  with  dignity, 
"  if  you  will  hereafter  mention  neither  of  those  young 
women  to  me  again  in  any  way,  shape  or  manner.  I 
am  beyond  the  age  when  a  man  enjoys  being  made 
a  fool  of  by  your  enchanting  sex,  sister  Rachel." 

Miss  Rachel  gasped.  She  gazed  after  him  amused 
and  a  little  pitiful.  He  was  such  a  baby,  she  thought, 
this  big  domineering  brother  of  hers,  such  a  spoiled 
baby.  She  was  herself  a  reasonable  woman  and 
could  not  comprehend  masculine  foibles.  It  oc 
curred  to  her  that  she  would  go  and  set  a  sponge,  that 
her  brother  might  have  some  rolls  of  a  sort  he  pecul 
iarly  affected,  for  his  next  morning's  breakfast.  Miss 
Rachel  was  a  practical  woman. 

"At  all  events,"  she  mused,  "I  can  keep  the  poor 
boy  washed  and  ironed  and  mended  and  starched 
and  fed.  If  ever  he  marries  Mattie  she'll  do  the 
same.  As  for  Eleanor's  husband  I  foresee  reefs  in 
the  direction  of  missing  shirt  buttons  and  heavy 
bread." 

Ordered  to  the  front,  Harry's  regiment  surely  was, 
and  the  fact  brought  the  bride  home  to  her  mother's 
roof.  She  was  reluctant  to  come,  but  her  objections 
were  overruled.  Her  husband  said  he  would  not 
feel  at  ease  to  leave  her  in  a  hotel,  by  herself,  or  even 


WAITING  DATS  47 

in  a  quiet  boarding-house.  He  absolutely  vetoed  the 
plan  of  her  staying  with  her  Baltimore  relatives,  and 
seriously  objected  to  her  taking  up  nursing  as  she 
proposed.  Eleanor  thought  nothing  could  be  more 
appropriate  for  her  than  that  she  too,  in  this  period 
of  tribulation  should  give  herself  to  serve  the  nation, 
and  minister  to  the  boys  in  blue.  But  Harry  per 
suaded  her  that  it  would  make  him  wretched,  to  feel 
constantly  uneasy  and  disturbed  about  the  one  most 
precious  to  him  in  the  world,  and  with  a  young  wife's 
usual  docility  she  accepted  his  decision.  She  came 
back  to  Islington  and  her  mother. 

Now  followed  a  twelvemonth  of  vicissitudes,  and 
varying  hopes,  of  excitements  and  fears.  The  Union 
soldiers  were  new  to  hard  riding,  marching  and 
shooting  their  enemies,  new  to  foraging,  new  to 
everything  that  war  implied.  So  in  a  measure  were 
their  opponents,  yet  every  Southern  country  boy  had 
sat  a  horse  from  his  cradle,  and  had  learned  the  use 
of  firearms  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  pull  a  trigger. 
Southerners  brought  up  in  town  life  were  handy  with 
rifles  and  pistols,  truculent,  accustomed  to  the  per 
sonal  encounter  and  less  peaceful  in  the  grain  than 
their  Northern  antagonists.  Besides  this,  every 
Southern  man  went  into  the  war  with  a  firmly  fixed 
opinion  that  his  foes  were  cowards,  and  was  filled 
with  an  immovable  expectation  of  easy  victory.  The 
North  lost  at  first  and  lost  often. 

A  deep  and  wearing  solicitude  pervaded  the  home 
life  of  both  sections.  Women,  obliged  to  sit  still  and 
wait  for  tidings,  while  their  best  beloved  are  exposed 
to  deadly  peril,  have  the  hardest  end  of  war's  terrible 
experiences  to  bear;  Eleanor  hung  over  the  daily 


48  ELEANOR  LEE 

papers  and  watched  the  mail  with  ceaseless  forebod 
ings.  Her  beauty  took  on  a  new  spirituality  as  her 
soul  grew  deeper  and  stronger  under  the  discipline  of 
trial.  Letters  came  often.  She  kept  in  touch  with 
Harry,  till  battles  broke  the  connection.  There  ar 
rived  a  morning  when  in  the  list  of  casualties,  the 
name  of  Capt.  Harry  Osbourn  was  reported  among 
those  who  had  been  taken  prisoner  by  the  Con 
federates. 

It  almost  killed  Mrs.  Lee  to  see  the  gray  pallor  of 
misery  that  settled  down  on  Eleanor's  face,  when 
this  report  reached  her.  The  poor  child  was  petri 
fied.  She  made  no  complaint,  but  she  refused  to  be 
comforted.  Kathleen  was  shut  out  of  her  room,  and 
though  she  permitted  her  mother's  entrance,  she 
scarcely  noticed  her  comings  and  goings.  Friends 
called  and  left  messages  and  flowers.  Eleanor  might 
have  been  a  statue  for  all  the  attention  she  paid. 
Under  her  dumb  despair  her  heart  was  clamoring 
insistently  for  Harry,  Harry! 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Donald  Waugh,  rising 
above  the  pettiness  of  a  grudge,  proved  himself 
a  true  friend.  He  had  called,  proffering  services,  but 
had  seen  only  Mrs.  Lee.  The  roses  which  had  borne 
his  card  adorned  the  drawing-room,  but  Eleanor  had 
not  even  glanced  at  them. 

"Why  don't  you  close  this  house,"  he  suggested, 
"and  go  to  Baltimore  until  the  war  is  over?  You 
will  be  much  nearer  headquarters  and  Eleanor  may 
be  diverted.  The  Captain  is  sure  to  be  exchanged 
before  many  weeks,  but  she  must  be  roused  at  all 
hazards.  Otherwise  you'll  have  an  invalid  on  your 
hands." 


WAITING  DATS  49 

"You  are  very  good,  Donald."  Then  Mrs.  Lee 
paused.  "  But  if  I  leave  this  place  everything  will  be 
neglected,  and  I  haven't  income  enough  for  two 
homes." 

"Nothing  need  be  neglected  here,  dear  lady. 
May  I  not  take  an  old  friend's  privilege  and  look 
after  this  Islington  house  ?  The  Judge  would  have 
told  you  to  trust  me." 

"  He  would  indeed." 

The  end  of  it  was,  that  the  Lees  broke  camp  and 
Eleanor  was  for  the  moment,  beguiled  from  her 
trouble.  But  they  did  not  choose  Baltimore.  There 
were  too  many  tender  associations  in  that  delightful 
city,  and  the  mother  thought  it  better  to  establish  her 
child  in  a  totally  new  environment.  They  sought 
the  quaint  old  capital  of  Maryland,  beautiful  Annapo 
lis,  and  found  a  temporary  resting-place  in  a  gray 
colonial  mansion  which  had  opened  its  doors  to  the 
wayfaring  public  as  a  boarding-house  offering  the 
comforts  of  a  home,  in  a  grand  and  lofty  fashion, 
which  rigidly  forbade  the  intrusion  of  the  commercial 
element  in  the  foreground.  Annapolis  was  laid  out 
by  its  founders  on  the  plan  of  a  wheel,  the  State 
House  and  the  City  Hall  in  the  centre,  the  streets 
radiating  from  the  hub,  like  spokes.  Many  fine  old 
houses  still  maintained  an  aspect  of  faded  grandeur 
in  the  sixties,  and  in  some  of  them  fair  women  kept 
poverty  hidden  as  if  it  had  been  crime,  and  dared 
misfortune  with  the  air  of  queens  regnant. 

Notwithstanding  her  overwhelming  distress  at  the 
unknown  sufferings  which  her  husband  might  be  en 
during,  Eleanor  was  interested  in  her  new  quarters. 
Her  room  which  Kathleen  shared,  had  been  designed 


50  ELEANOR  LEE 

by  the  original  owner  of  the  mansion,  a  colonial  gov 
ernor  of  Maryland,  with  a  view  to  the  pomp  and 
circumstance  which  he  thought  befitted  an  idolized 
only  daughter.  The  windows,  deeply  embrasured, 
gave  upon  a  neglected  garden  where  thick  and 
sombre  hedges  of  box  separated  flower-beds  in 
which  sturdy  annuals  throve  without  culture.  Di 
rectly  under  the  west  window  there  was  a  terrace 
adorned  with  box-trees  trained  in  formal  shapes,  and 
representing  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  a  group  of  her 
maids  of  honor.  An  old  rose-bush,  a  bush  that  bore 
white  roses  pure  as  the  robes  of  the  saints  and  sweet 
as  honey,  tapped  against  the  pane.  The  wrens 
loved  this  bush,  and  made  nests  in  its  branches.  In 
the  middle  distance  was  a  crepe  myrtle,  which 
Eleanor  fancied  bore  a  succession  of  blossoms.  At 
least  their  color  was  processional  from  faintest  pink 
to  deepest  crimson,  and  the  tree  was  a  magnifi 
cent  bouquet  for  weeks  together.  The  magnolia 
grandiflora  with  its  splendid  flower  was  a  delight, 
and  Eleanor,  against  her  will,  found  herself  forgetting 
her  grief  and  loving  the  beautiful  old  Southern 
garden. 

Two  sides  of  her  chamber  from  ceiling  to  floor 
were  panelled  in  long  mirrors.  Here  the  Governor's 
daughter  and  her  girl  friends  in  the  vanished  days  of 
a  ceremonious  past,  had  surveyed  themselves  when 
dressed  for  their  parties;  for  dance  or  minuet,  or 
sumptuous  feast.  Kathleen  pirouetted  in  front  of 
these  looking  glasses  and  trailed  the  whiteness  of  her 
first  long  dress  before  them  in  a  satisfaction  which 
Mrs.  Lee  did  not  reprove,  so  glad  was  she  to  have 
one  happy  daughter  to  keep  her  company. 


WAITING  DAYS  51 

As  for  the  house,  it  was  managed  by  Cephas,  and 
managed  well.  Cephas,  with  his  ebony  face,  and 
air  of  grandeur,  Cephas,  who  catered,  marketed,  and 
'kept  accounts,  who  welcomed  the  arriving  and 
speeded  the  departing  guest.  What  did  not  Cephas 
do  ?  He  certainly  assisted  the  cook,  and  was  re 
sponsible  for  many  of  the  tempting  dishes  which 
were  served  on  the  table.  He  was  the  most  im 
maculate  of  butlers.  He  was  the  most  imperturbable 
and  courteous  and  ubiquitous  of  major-domos.  Be 
tween  the  aristocratic  mistress  of  the  mansion  who 
sometimes,  but  not  invariably,  deigned  to  preside  at 
her  dinner-table,  and  the  incoming  surge  of  strangers 
from  Yankeedom  whose  fees  kept  starvation  from 
the  door,  Cephas  stood  like  the  rock  that  resists  the 
wave.  It  might  foam  at  his  feet,  but  not  one  whit 
did  he  lose  of  his  incomparable  and  majestic  polite 
ness;  he  was  master  of  the  situation  and  equal  to 
every  emergency,  this  black  Cephas  of  unknown  age, 
whose  only  indulgence  was  on  Sabbath  evenings 
when  he  sat  in  the  foremost  seat  and  led  the  singing 
in  the  African  Methodist  church.  Then  indeed  was 
Cephas  a  personage. 

The  lady  of  the  manor,  delicate,  coquettish,  petite, 
with  an  air  of  extreme  dependence  and  the  effect  of 
a  snowflake  in  her  soft  fragility,  was  a  puzzle  to  Mrs. 
Lee.  No  Northern  woman  of  her  type  existed  in 
those  days.  Southern  in  her  birth  and  breeding,  she 
bore  beneath  her  superficial  languor  and  indolence, 
an  ability  to  toil,  to  endure,  and  to  carry  out  her 
purposes  which  was  simply  untiring  and  unconquer 
able.  An  appealing  ingenuousness  of  manner, 
childlike  in  its  sweetness,  covered  depths  of  resolu- 


52  ELEANOR   LEE 

tion,  which  few  women  surpass;  she  could  and  did 
drive  hard  bargains — through  Cephas — unsuspected 
by  her  patrons,  who  haggled  with  him  in  vain.  He 
was  as  granite  when  concessions  were  demanded, 
but  he  kept  the  house  in  such  comfort  that  those  who 
dwelt  there  felt  ashamed  to  seem  unwilling  to  pay 
the  high  prices  asked.  The  patrons  of  the  house 
were  largely  Army  folk,  or  people  coming  and  going 
because  of  the  unsettled  condition  of  the  country: 
people  who  were  on  the  way  to  Washington,  or  re 
turning  thence.  Mrs.  Lee  was  more  than  pleased  that 
she  had  chosen  to  stay  awhile  in  Annapolis,  when  a 
camp  for  paroled  prisoners  was  presently  established 
a  mile  or  two  from  its  outer  limits.  Eleanor,  too, 
began  to  hope,  and  hope  brought  back  a  faint  rose 
flush  to  cheeks  that  had  grown  very  pale. 


WHEN  SOULS  WERE  TRIED 

IN  trie  immediate  excitement  of  the  hour,  great 
bitterness  was  felt  by  those  on  either  side  of  the 
tremendous  conflict,  who  had  loved  ones  de 
tained  as  prisoners.  If  in  Southern  prisons,  our  men 
were  subjected  to  harsh  treatment,  crowded  in  noisome 
quarters,  and  famished  on  miserably  short  rations, 
their  captors  were  less  to  blame  than  we  then  imag 
ined.  They  too  were  living  on  famine  supplies,  and 
making  *  gallant  fight  against  fearful  odds,  and  they 
had  not  wherewithal  to  house  prisoners  of  war  in 
decency  or  common  comfort.  Southern  men  in 
Northern  war  prisons  had  their  tales  to  tell  of  hard 
ship,  cold,  and  suffering.  As  General  Sherman  pithily 
said,  "War  is  cruel  and  you  cannot  refine  it."  At 
the  distance  of  forty  years,  prejudices  are  softened, 
and  vision  grows  clearer,  as  the  perspective  widens. 
We  were  once  too  near,  and  the  wounds  were  too 
sensitive,  to  permit  of  fairness  in  judgment. 

Those  days  in  Annapolis  seemed  unreal  to  Eleanor 
as  they  wore  slowly  away.  She  existed.  She  did 
not  live.  Often  she  paced  the  floor,  up  and  down, 
for  an  hour  at  a  time,  silent,  woe-begone,  the  light 
all  dashed  from  her  bright  young  face  that  now 
looked  frozen.  Her  mother  was  heart-broken. 
When  our  children  are  little  there  is  no  trouble  that 
can  touch  them,  which  we  cannot  soothe,  but  the 

53 


54  ELEANOR   LEE 

heart-trials  of  maturity,  each  person  bears  alone,  and 
it  is  no  slight  grief  to  stand  helplessly  by,  and  see  the 
misery  of  a  child,  misery  all  too  great  for  our  assuag 
ing. 

Mrs.  Lee  knew  that  work  is  the  best  palliative  for 
sorrow,  so  instead  of  bemoaning  Eleanor's  fate,  she 
insisted  on  taking  a  cheerful  view  of  probabilities. 
"You'll  hear  good  news  to-morrow  if  not  to-day," 
she  said,  again  and  again,  with  no  weakening  in  her 
tones.  Where  did  she  get  that  invincible  strength  ? 
Surely  not  from  man,  nor  from  a  blessedly  buoyant 
temperament.  It  was  given  her  in  continually  new 
supplies  in  answer  to  her  continual  prayers,  "Com 
mit  thy  way  unto  the  Lord,"  and  He  will  make  that 
way  plain  before  thee.  In  every  age  the  saints  have 
found  this  verified.  It  was  verified  day  by  day  by 
Mrs.  Lee. 

After  the  establishment  of  the  camp,  hospitals 
were  needed,  for  the  poor  fellows  who  came  up 
from  the  South  by  train  and  transport  were  in  need 
of  medicine,  nursing  and  ministry.  Gaunt  skeletons 
of  the  strong  young  fellows  who  had  marched  away 
to  sound  of  drum  and  bugle,  with  flags  flying  and 
thousands  cheering,  their  own  mothers  would  not 
have  known  them  when  they  came  back.  Fever- 
smitten,  starved,  dirty  beyond  belief,  in  rags  and 
tatters,  they  looked  like  the  veriest  scarecrows,  as 
they  tottered  on  shore,  glad  to  be  under  the  old 
banner  once  more. 

Nurses  were  plenty,  among  them  Mattie  Dunmore, 
doing  good  work,  but  there  was  enough  for  volun 
teers  to  do,  and  Mrs.  Lee  and  her  daughters  helped. 
Eleanor  would  go  from  cot  to  cot,  obeying  the 


WHEN  SOULS  WERE  TRIED    55 

surgeon's  orders,  writing  letters  for  some  poor  man 
who  was  wounded,  letters  that  carried  great  joy  and 
relief  to  a  home  in  Massachusetts  or  Indiana,  and 
hearing  from  the  men's  lips,  the  story  of  their  months 
in  prison.  From  more  than  one  she  gathered 
courage,  and  gradually  merged  from  despair,  and 
began  to  feel  that  she  might  see  her  husband  before 
long.  Indeed  that  was  a  red  letter  day  when  she 
learned,  positively,  that  he  was  alive,  and  in  Libby, 
though  presently  a  great  sorrow  was  added,  when 
through  the  medium  of  the  newspapers,  just  after, 
she  heard  that  Capt.  Henry  Osbourn  was  one  of  seven 
who  were  being  held  as  hostages  for  seven  Con 
federates  whom  the  Federals  held,  and  for  whom, 
rumor  said,  there  was  danger  of  the  death  penalty. 
Eleanor  did  not  understand  it,  and  she  was  racked 
with  anxiety,  but  before  long  the  uttermost  danger 
was  over.  She  was  told  that  Harry  was  relieved  of 
the  great  peril  that  had  menaced  him  and  would  soon 
be  exchanged. 

Knowing  this  there  was  something  to  anticipate. 
She  again  took  up  her  life.  Color  returned  to  her 
cheek,  and  lightness  to  her  step.  The  picturesque 
side  of  her  surroundings  appealed  to  her.  The  music 
at  morning  or  night  the  waking  bugle  call  and  the 
evening  drum  beat,  the  white  camp,  with  its  many 
tents  and  orderly  streets,  the  surge  of  people  coming 
and  going,  the  fires  at  nightfall,  and  the  men  grouped 
around  them,  the  fitful  gayety  of  life  veiling  a  con 
stant  solicitude,  all  impressed  her  as  she  had  not 
imagined  she  could  be  impressed. 

They  attended  church,  and  found  much  profit  in 
the  services,  though  the  preacher  and  many  of  the 


56  ELEANOR   LEE 

worshippers  were  not  sympathetic  with  them.  When 
the  pastor  prayed  that  we  "might  lead  a  quiet  and 
peaceable  life  in  all  godliness  and  honesty,"  the 
Lees  could  join  in  that  petition,  and  when  the  Bible 
was  read,  it  was  the  same  Bible  they  had  studied 
ail  their  days. 

Donald  Waugh  had  business  which  often  brought 
him  to  Washington  and  he  found  it  impracticable  to 
go  home  to  Islington  without  a  visit  to  Annapolis. 
So  the  old  hotel  often  had  him  for  a  guest  and  the 
proprietor  became  familiar  with  his  stiff  dignified 
figure,  and  formal  manner,  a  manner  consonant  with 
the  solidity  Donald  always  expressed.  Miss  Rachel 
accompanied  him  on  one  occasion  and  was  enthusias 
tic  in  her  appreciation  of  the  place  and  the  people. 
She  had  been  deploring  the  war,  and  notwithstand 
ing  her  work  on  the  Sanitary  Commission,  had 
scarcely  realized  how  terrible  it  was,  and  how  re 
lentless  how  stern  its  grim  hostilities,  but  now  she 
rose  to  a  higher  patriotism.  The  immortal  battle 
hymn  of  the  republic  which  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe 
wrote  in  those  days,  speaks  the  language  of  those 
who  saw  the  soldiers  come  and  go  in  that  tumultuous 
time. 

"  Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  of  the  Lord, 
He  hath  loosed  the  fateful  lightnings  of  His  terrible  sharp  sword." 

It  was  indeed  "a  fiery  gospel,  writ  in  burnished  rows 
of  steel,"  that  we  read  in  the  days  of  our  Civil  War, 
and  "  God  was  marching  on." 

Donald  was  assiduous  in  paying  every  possible 
courtesy  to  the  Lees  and  their  affairs  at  home  prospered 
in  his  hands.  He  managed  Mrs.  Lee's  investment^ 


WHEN  SOULS  WERE  TRIED    57 

and  in  every  little  and  large  way  made  them  free  of 
care.  Somehow  his  regard  for  Eleanor  had  subtly 
changed  its  character.  Since  she  was  another  man's 
wife,  he  could  not  long  for  her,  and  he  sternly  for 
bade  himself  to  think  of  her  with  the  old  yearning 
and  love.  Had  Kathleen  been  older,  he  might  have 
transferred  his  loyalty  to  her,  but  she  was  a  mere 
child  in  his  eyes.  Though  he  had  declared  himself 
indifferent  to  Mattie  Dunmore  except  as  he  admired 
her  good  sense  and  enjoyed  her  friendship,  his  heart 
was  caught  in  the  rebound  when  he  first  saw  her  in 
the  nurse's  neat  uniform.  Print  gown,  cap  and  apron 
set  off  Mattie's  little  figure,  and  she  was  what  Donald 
most  appreciated,  competent,  womanly,  kind  and 
compassionate  in  this  work  she  had  undertaken. 
He  found  himself  envying  the  men  to  whom  she 
gave  food  and  drink,  whose  wounds  she  dressed, 
whose  letters  she  wrote. 

Before  long  he  was  conscious  that  the  vacant  niche 
in  his  life  could  be  acceptably  filled,  if  Mattie  would 
consent  to  fill  it.  But  she  was  busy,  preoccupied, 
aloof.  If  he  was  to  gain  her  hand,  he  must  court 
her,  very  humbly  and  very  perseveringly.  There 
was  no  other  way  of  winning  this  little  brown-haired 
lady,  who  knew  her  own  value.  She  loved  Donald 
but  pride  forbade  her  capitulating  too  soon. 

The  transport  that  brought  Harry  Osbourn  to  An 
napolis  was  at  last  announced.  With  a  fast  beating 
heart  Eleanor  was  on  the  wharf  to  meet  her  soldier- 
husband.  But  was  this  he  ?  This  wreck  of  the 
splendid  man  she  remembered,  his  eyes  looking  pre- 
ternaturally  big  in  the  wasted  face,  his  hands  like 
birds'  claws,  his  limbs  like  sticks,  arms  and  legs 


58  ELEANOR  LEE 

worn  to  the  bone  ?  Harry  had  suffered  fearfully,  and 
was  exhausted  to  the  last  vestige  of  strength  when 
he  arrived  at  Camp  Parole. 

Eleanor  felt  as  if  she  were  receiving  his  ghost. 

"  He  isn't  glad  to  see  me,  mother,"  she  wailed. 

"  Darling  child,  he  is  too  ill  to  be  glad  of  anything," 
the  mother  answered.  "  Be  thankful  he's  a  living 
man." 

When  Donald  Waugh  returned  to  Islington,  he  had 
a  good  deal  to  think  of,  and  much  to  tell  Miss  Rachel. 
The  plans  for  his  new  house  which  had  been  thrust 
into  the  darkness  of  his  study  closet,  emerged  from 
their  seclusion,  and  other  plans,  hitherto  in  abeyance, 
materialized.  He  was  becoming  a  very  rich  man. 
He  decided  on  building  a  beautiful  home.  Yet,  that 
he  might  guard  himself  from  vainglory  and  greed, 
Donald  Waugh,  having  a  conscience,  endowed  a 
home  for  soldiers'  orphans,  and  sent  a  generous 
check  to  the  Sanitary  Commission.  His  was  the  pen 
of  a  ready  writer,  and  he  was  as  fluent  on  paper  as 
the  most  fastidious  critic,  who  cared  for  him,  could 
desire.  Miss  Mattie  Dunmore  received  letters  from 
him  almost  every  day,  and  his  wooing  was  not  that 
of  a  laggard  lover. 

The  Lees  thought  little  about  Donald  or  Mattie. 
Mrs.  Lee  went  to  Washington  to  seek  the  influence 
of  those  high  in  authority,  and  she  obtained  after 
much  pleading  a  long  leave  of  absence  for  Harry. 
Before  long  they  brought  him  home  to  Islington, 
where  Eleanor  devoted  herself  to  his  care.  Con 
valescence  was  tedious.  Months  elapsed  before  he 
was  pronounced  well  enough  to  return  to  the  army, 
and  when  he  went  back  his  wife  went  with  him. 


WHEN  SOULS  WERE  TRIED   59 

following  his  fortunes;  staying  with  or  near  him, 
when  she  could,  and,  incidentally,  taking  up  some 
of  the  burdens  and  anxieties  that  heavily  tax  the  sol 
dier's  wife.  Hardships  and  anxieties  were  often 
Eleanor's  portion  in  this  period  of  her  life.  She  did 
without  luxuries  which  had  been  as  her  daily  bread. 
She  was  merry  over  the  mishaps  that  her  mother 
would  have  mourned.  With  it  all  she  was  very 
happy,  until  over  the  heaven  of  her  life,  flitted  a 
shadow,  u  cloud  not  bigger  than  a  man's  hand,  but 
the  portent  of  a  coming  tempest. 

Most  mercifully  we  do  not  know  beforehand  what 
the  future  is  to  bring  us.  Were  it  otherwise  we 
could  never  meet  and  conquer  trouble.  The  future 
wears  the  face  of  the  Sphinx  for  us  every  one,  and 
for  no  other  boon  of  Providence  should  we  be  more 
grateful.  Trouble  need  not  crush  twice. 


VI 

THE  FIRST  SHADOW 

TWO  young  persons  thrown  together  so 
cially,  in  romantic  circumstances,  mutually 
attracted,  and  marrying  after  a  very  brief 
acquaintance,  are  not  likely  to  have  smooth  sailing 
from  the  start.  The  first  year  of  marriage  is  a  time 
of  testing,  often  a  time  of  trial  as  well.  The  Os- 
bourns  had  been  so  much  apart  during  their  first 
year  of  wedlock,  that  the  glamour  of  the  honeymoon 
was  slow  to  fade.  Fading  came  later.  During  the 
strenuous  and  exciting  period  of  the  war,  they  were 
so  occupied  with  the  events  in  constant  progress,  so 
vividly  interested  in  things  beyond  their  doors,  that 
they  had  little  opportunity  to  think  about  themselves. 
The  shadow  crept  on  stealthily.  To  Harry,  his  wife 
was  still  the  exquisite  girl  whom  he  had  carried  off 
from  other  suitors,  and  whose  possession  filled  him 
with  pride  and  joy.  Yet,  already  he  had  taken  on 
something  of  the  man's  matter-of-fact  bearing  to 
wards  the  thing  he  possessed.  Eleanor  was  his,  to 
love,  honor  and  cherish,  but  by  no  means  to  make  a 
continual  fuss  over.  Had  he  not  assured  her  of  his 
love,  and  should  not  that  be  enough  ?  Harry,  though 
from  Ohio,  came  of  New  England  stock.  He  was 
temperamentally  calm  and  undemonstrative,  and  to 
remain  expansive  was  not  in  his  power,  though  he 
was  seldom  lacking  in  courtesy.  His  one  effort  at 

60 


THE  FIRST  SHADOW        61 

expansion  had  exhausted  itself  when  he  had  urged 
on  the  speedy  marriage,  which  had  made  Eleanor 
irrevocably  his  own.  Often  during  those  fearful 
months  of  fighting,  Harry  was  actually  "  dead  tired," 
when  he  met  his  wife,  too  tired  for  anything  beyond 
the  chance  to  snatch  a  hurried  sleep.  If  she  were 
harassed  or  pale,  or  disturbed,  he  simply  did  not  notice 
it,  and  if  she  cried  until  her  eyes  were  red,  he  fancied 
the  redness  was  due  to  the  wind,  or  a  cold  in  her 
head.  He  sometimes  forgot  trifling  attentions.  Yet, 
on  the  whole  during  that  unsettled  time  Eleanor  was 
moderately  happy,  though  not  so  happy  as  she  had 
expected  to  be.  She  felt  a  vague  disappointment, 
why  she  could  not  explain. 

After  the  manner  of  young  wives,  she  was  wor 
shipping  an  ideal.  A  girl's  first  love  is  far  more 
given  to  an  ideal  man,  than  to  the  man  she  actually 
marries,  and  blessed  among  women  is  she  who  never 
finds  her  ideal  flawed.  The  feet  of  clay  trample  so 
ruthlessly  over  maiden  illusions,  and  their  owners  are 
sometimes  so  little  to  blame  !  Often  they  are  puzzled 
as  to  what  can  be  the  matter. 

When  we  reflect  that  every  husband  comes  to 
every  wife,  out  of  an  environment  and  from  a  train 
ing  in  many  ways  diverse  from  hers,  that  relations- 
in-law  are  notoriously  tolerated  rather  than  beloved, 
and  that  the  new  household  must  perforce  be  erected 
over  the  ruins  of  some  old  traditions,  and  the 
wreckage  of  some  old  joys,  the  wonder  is  that  so 
many  marriages  are  ultimately  successful,  as  God  be 
praised,  they  are. 

In  Baltimore  again,  on  the  night  when  the  tidings 
of  Lee's  surrender  brought  to  the  North  the  wildest 


62  ELEANOR   LEE 

ecstasy  of  triumph,  as  to  the  South  the  deepest  gloom 
of  despair,  Harry  Osbourn  took  Eleanor  out  to  min 
gle  in  the  crowds  that  surged  through  the  streets. 
His  uniform  proclaimed  him  one  of  the  conquering 
host,  and  men  and  women  whom  he  had  never  seen, 
threw  their  arms  around  him  and  hugged  him  with 
rapture. 

"There's  glory  enough  for  one  day!"  cried  a 
young  man  who  had  four  brothers  in  the  Federal 
army,  and  whose  empty  sleeve  was  eloquent  of  sacri 
fice  for  the  Union.  He  had  been  wounded  at  Gettys 
burg.  "  Bress  de  Lord,  honey!"  ejaculated  an  old 
negro,  as  the  shouts  rang  and  reechoed.  "  Bress  de 
Lord,  who  hab  set  His  people  free! "  Eleanor 
laughed  and  cried  as  she  was  drawn  through  that 
excited,  glad-hearted  throng,  the  people  beside  them 
selves  with  gratitude  that  the'  war  was  ended.  In 
Monument  Square,  there  were  tall  houses  illuminated 
from  basement  to  roof,  a  candle  twinkling  starlike  in 
every  pane,  but  other  houses  faced  them  in  funereal 
black,  not  a  glimmer  of  light  relieving  their  aspect  of 
heart-broken  mourning.  Only  a  few  hours  later,  and 
the  houses  of  festival-cheer  would  in  turn  put  on 
their  symbols  of  sorrow,  when  Lincoln's  assassina 
tion  had  changed  the  wild  joy  to  bitter  grief;  while 
the  gloom-shrouded  dwellings  would  throw  wide 
their  shutters  in  brief  delight.  No  hint  of  the  coming 
martyrdom  was  yet  revealed.  Men  sang  the  Star 
Spangle  Banner,  and  America,  and 

"  Rally  round  the  flag,  boys, 
Give  it  to  the  breeze," 

and  those  streets  of  Baltimore  that  had  been  stained 


THE  FIRST  SHADOW        63 

with  the  first  blood  of  the  Civil  War,  when  the 
Massachusetts  Sixth  was  ruthlessly  attacked  in  its 
passage  through  the  city,  resounded  to  the  lilt  of 
"John  Brown's  Body,"  and  thrilled  to  the  victorious 
refrain,  "  For  God  is  marching  on!  " 

Eleanor  never  forgot  that  white  night,  those  ex 
ultant  days. 

The  war  being  over,  and  the  troops  mustered 
out,  Harry  resumed  his  profession  of  the  law,  and 
established  himself  in  a  Southern  city.  It  was 
thought  by  his  father  and  his  advisers  that  Northern 
capital  would  rapidly  flow  into  this  hitherto  sleepy 
old  town,  and  that  wealth  and  prosperity  would  be 
the  portion  of  those  who  should  earliest  settle  there 
in  the  auspicious  beginnings  of  peace.  The  im 
pression  was  a  true  one,  and  the  prophecies  of  the 
most  sanguine  have  been  fulfilled,  yet  the  lot  of 
the  Northern  men  who  were  pioneers  of  the  throng 
to  follow  their  steps  was  not  a  very  enviable  one, 
and  their  wives  had  some  woefully  lonely  hours  to 
meet. 

"  This  home  is  always  here  for  your  resting-place, 
darling,"  said  Mrs.  Lee,  when  she  bade  Eleanor  good 
bye  in  Islington  on  her  going  off  to  the  new  abode. 
"And  you  will  surely  return  here  every  summer." 

"Of  course  she  will  come  as  often  as  she  likes," 
declared  Harry,  "and  you  and  Kathleen  will  visit 
her.  Don't  be  downhearted.  I'm  not  carrying  her 
to  the  other  side  of  the  globe.  Only  a  few  hundred 
miles,  you  can  see  each  other  as  often  as  you  wish, 
never  fear." 

Eleanor  started  for  a  real  home  of  her  own,  with 
high  anticipations.  She  was  charmed  to  think  of 


64  ELEANOR  LEE 

being  settled,  and  keeping  house,  of  making  a  home 
for  Harry,  and  having  him  all  to  herself.  The  Vir 
ginian  town  selected  was  not  far  from  tide-water, 
and  so  bland  was  the  climate,  that  flowers  bloomed 
out  of  doors  most  of  the  year,  and  the  winters  were 
mild  and  lovely.  Even  in  summer  nights,  cool 
breezes  swept  in  from  the  bay,  and  made  blankets 
needful.  On  all  the  Atlantic  coast  there  was  no 
prettier  town  than  Cliveden,  which  was  chosen  by 
Harry  and  Eleanor  for  their  home. 

The  English  settlers  who  set  their  seal  upon  Vir 
ginia  brought  with  them  their  insular  exclusiveness, 
and  the  early  fashions  of  well  separated  homes  still 
obtained  in  Clivedon.  Eleanor's  home  was  a  square 
brick  house,  with  rooms  on  either  side  of  a  broad 
passage,  and  a  great  garden  all  around  it,  where 
violets  grew  in  fragrant  beds,  and  roses  fairly  rioted. 
Clumps  of  peonies,  of  white  lilies,  of  prince's  feather, 
of  southernwood,  and  ribbon  grass,  made  this  pleas- 
aunce  beautiful.  It  was  surrounded  by  a  high  brick 
wall,  in  which  was  a  small  iron  gate,  the  wall  com 
pletely  concealing  house  and  grounds  from  the  street, 
and  shielding  the  inmates  from  the  scrutiny  of  pass 
ers-by.  Eleanor  regretted  the  wall,  it  gave  her  a 
sense  of  captivity  after  the  freely  shared  lawns  of 
Islington,  where  at  most,  a  hedge  or  a  white  paling 
defined  the  boundaries  of  an  estate.  There  came  a 
day  when  she  knelt  down  and  thanked  God  for  that 
protecting  wall. 

Harry's  people  had  been  generous  livers,  keeping 
open  house,  and  entertaining  lavishly,  so  that  the 
usages  of  the  South,  which  still  made  it  an  obligation 
to  offer  some  refreshment  to  callers,  were  in  accord 


THE  FIRST  SHADOW        65 

with  his  ideas  of  propriety.  When  Eleanor  saw  her 
sideboard  provided  with  wines  of  costly  vintages 
and  several  brands  of  whiskey,  she  at  once  demurred; 
her  father  had  held  rigid  opinions  on  the  subject  of 
temperance,  and  she  was  not  ready  to  adopt  other 
tenets  than  those  in  which  she  had  been  brought  up. 
That  Captain  Osbourn  was  not  a  total  abstainer  had 
been  to  her  a  source  of  regret,  but  in  war  days,  ex 
cuses  had  been  many.  The  flask  with  its  stimulating 
liquor  had  seemed  a  necessity  on  the  march,  and  to 
the  wet,  weary,  half-famished  man,  who  had  taken 
a  pull  at  it,  to  keep  the  cold  away,  it  had  appeared  a 
positive  boon.  Yet  Eleanor  had  already  worried 
much  over  Harry's  inclination  to  go  to  it  too  often, 
and  she  had  made  more  than  one  stand  against  treat 
ing  others  and  taking  social  drinks. 

"You  precious  little  Puritan!"  the  husband  had 
said,  on  the  occasion  of  one  of  their  last  arguments, 
"whoever  would  have  fancied  you  could  be  such  a 
bigot  ?  Why  I  believe  you  are  afraid  of  my  becoming 
a  toper.  Shame  on  you,  Eleanor."  Half  laughingly 
reproving  her,  he  had  stopped  her  remonstrances 
with  a  kiss. 

"Now,  look  here,  wifie!  My  father  and  my  grand 
father  and  his  father,  all  took  what  they  wanted, 
when  they  wanted  it,  and  not  one  of  them  was  ever 
a  mite  the  worse  for  the  habit.  There  isn't  any  harm 
in  the  thing,  or  any  danger,  and,  if  I'm  to  succeed 
here,  I'll  have  to  keep  the  pace  of  the  place.  In 
Rome  do  as  the  Romans  do,  my  dear.  I  don't  insist 
on  your  offering  wine;  offer  tea  if  you  prefer  to  your 
visitors,  but  leave  me  my  freedom." 

What  could  Eleanor  do  ?    She  tried  to  persuade 


66  ELEANOR  LEE 

herself  that  she  was  narrow  and  foolishly  timid. 
She  tried  to  bear  herself  courteously  when  her  hus 
band  and  his  guests  drank  together.  And  after 
awhile,  though  she  could  not  shut  her  eyes  to  a 
certain  gradual  coarsening  of  Harry's  face,  a  certain 
increasing  asperity  in  his  temper,  yet  she  endeavored 
not  to  associate  these  features  of  change  with  his 
habits.  All  around  her  were  men  who  drank — like 
gentlemen — and  who  held  that  men  might  drink  like 
gentlemen, — yet  never  acquire  the  drunkard's  fatal 
thirst.  And  the  wives  seemed  not  at  all  concerned. 
Some  of  them  laughed  at  Mrs.  Osbourn's  scruples. 
Laughed  !  They  might  better  have  wept.  An  in 
cident  presently  brought  sudden  wide  awakening. 

"  Harry,  if  you  are  passing  the  drug-store  to-day 
will  you  bring  me  a  little  bottle  of  rose-water?"  she 
asked  one  morning. 

"Certainly,  any  special  variety?" 
"No,  any  delicate  extract  will  do,  dear." 
An  hour  or  two  after  his  departure,  a  colored  boy 
appeared  bearing  a  small  basket  packed  to  the  top 
with  rose-water  in  flat  vials,  in  round  vials  and  in  cut 
glass  bottles  large  and  small.  Harry  had  simply  pur 
chased  the  entire  stock  in  trade  of  the  druggist  and 
sent  it  home.  Eleanor  found  it  unwise  to  give  her 
husband  the  smallest  marketing  to  do  in  a  town 
where  men  frequently  attended  to  the  marketing.  He 
bought  as  if  supplying  the  commissariat  of  an  army. 
Then  he  fumed  and  scolded,  if  she  asked  for  money, 
asserting  that  they  were  living  at  a  rate  which  would 
soon  land  them  in  the  poorhouse.  They  were!  But 
it  was  not  Eleanor's  fault. 
In  court  Harry  was  brilliantly  spectacular,  an  able 


THE  FIRST  SHADOW        67 

pleader,  with  the  sure  grasp  on  facts,  and  the  readi 
ness  to  turn  to  the  right  authorities,  which  are  hall 
marks  of  the  well  equipped  advocate.  Before  a  jury 
he  was  at  his  best,  eloquent,  convincing,  scholarly, 
and  fine. 

"You  maybe  proud  of  your  husband,  madam," 
said  a  courtly  judge.  "He  is  received  at  our  bar  as 
if  he  were  a  son  of  the  soil."  No  greater  compliment 
could  have  been  paid  in  those  times  and  in  that  state. 

Harry  had  been  conducting  an  unusually  involved 
and  fatiguing  case,  hotly  contested  by  stubborn  op 
ponents.  To  win  it  against  overwhelming  odds, 
was  next  to  impossible,  but  he  persevered,  and  won, 
to  his  own  surprise,  as  well  as  to  the  dismay  of  his 
antagonists.  A  large  sum  of  money  was  at  stake, 
and  his  gain  meant  a  very  handsome  fee,  which  was 
of  less  account  in  his  sight,  than  the  honor  his 
success  brought  him.  Yet  the  money  too  was 
opportune. 

From  the  court  room  he  came  home,  white,  hag 
gard,  and  nervous.  Reaction  had  set  in.  He  could 
eat  none  of  the  tempting  dinner  Eleanor  had  provided, 
but  he  drank  deeply,  and  with  a  word  of  apology 
went  off  to  bed. 

"I'll  be  rested  in  the  morning,"  he  said.  "I'm 
clear  down  now.  Don't  let  anybody  know  I'm  at 
home." 

That  night  Eleanor  tasted  for  the  first  time  the  full 
horror  of  watching  by  the  bed  of  a  man  who  was 
not  himself.  Harry's  face  became  flushed.  His 
breath  came  in  gasps.  He  grew  violent,  raved, 
cursed  and  swore.  Then  followed  fright,  abject 
shivering  terror  that  shrank  from  imaginary  foes. 


68  ELEANOR   LEE 

He  declared  that  rats  were  running  up  and  down  the 
walls,  and  fairly  shrieked  for  help. 

Eleanor  aroused  her  butler  and  sent  him  for  the 
doctor.  When  he  arrived,  his  practiced  eye  at  once 
recognized  the  symptoms. 

"  1  have  feared  this,"  he  said. 

"What  is  it,  doctor?"  asked  the  wife,  who  stood 
in  her  white  gown  beside  the  bed,  as  beautiful  as  an 
angel,  the  doctor  thought,  but  sadder  than  a  woman 
ought  ever  to  be. 

The  doctor  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  taking  her  aside 
into  the  next  room.  "  Your  husband  is  in  danger  of 
delirium  tremens,  madam,  but  I  hope  to  control  it.  I 
will  watch  by  him  till  morning,  with  William's  help. 
It  is  a  first  attack,  and  should  yield  to  treatment." 

"Oh,  Dr.  Abbott,  it  cannot  be  that,"  exclaimed 
Eleanor  in  terror.  "Harry  has  been  under  a  terrific 
strain,  and  is  very,  very  tired." 

"  Yes,  dear  lady,  I  know,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Leave 
him  to  me.  And  you  go  to  bed.  Poor  child,  you  are 
very  young  to  have  so  much  trouble  before  you." 


FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE 

THE  native  strength  of  character  that  had 
enabled  Eleanor  Lee  at  eighteen  to  bear  her 
self  bravely  under  the  overwhelming  shock 
of  her  dear  father's  sudden  death,  was  not  wanting 
when  bitter  trial  came  to  the  woman.  She  was 
young,  as  the  old  doctor  said,  but  she  had  already 
had  some  foreshadowing  of  disaster,  and  she  braced 
her  spirit  to  resist  or  to  endure  whatever  might  be 
before  her.  In  the  moment  of  the  doctor's  words, 
she  summoned  all  her  will,  to  keep  from  any  out 
ward  wavering.  While  she  could  do  anything  for 
Harry,  she  remained  near  him.  When  at  last,  soothed 
and  quieted,  he  slept,  she  crept  away  to  an  upper 
room,  and  turned  the  key.  Alone,  in  the  darkness, 
broken  only  by  the  beams  of  a  moon  in  its  last 
quarter,  she  gave  way;  sobs  shook  her  as  the  wind 
shakes  the  reed,  and  her  hot  tears  fell,  but  the  reed 
bends,  and  does  not  break,  and  Eleanor,  when  the 
tempest  had  spent  itself,  knelt  and  said  her  prayers, 
just  as  she  had  done  from  childhood,  then  lay  down 
and  fell  asleep.  When  she  awoke,  morning  had 
come,  with  its  fragrance  and  bird-song.  Everything 
was  sparkling  with  dew  and  the  world  was  fair  as  if 
bathed  in  Eden  freshness.  She  softly  opened  her 
door  and  listened.  From  her  husband's  room  below 
stairs,  there  was  no  sound.  By  degrees  the  scenes 

69 


70  ELEANOR  LEE 

of  yesterday  returned  to  her  mind.  She  wondered 
that  everything  looked  as  usual,  the  sky  so  blue  and 
bright,  the  garden  so  perfumed,  the  river  so  full-tided 
with  all  its  shining  waves,  and  the  little  fishing  boats 
with  their  sails  spread,  leaving  harbor  for  the  open 
sea.  Who  has  not  sometimes  felt  the  indifference  of 
Nature  to  human  pain,  almost  as  if  it  triumphed  in 
its  mockery  ?  Eleanor  had  the  child's  habit  of  the 
morning  prayer.  She  said,  "Our  Father,"  and  when 
she  came  to  "Thy  will  be  done,"  the  great  comfort 
of  that  acceptance  suddenly  rested  her  soul,  as  if  an 
arm  had  been  thrown  around  her,  and  new  strength 
from  without  poured  into  her  heart.  The  will  of 
God,  accepted,  adopted,  is  a  pillow  on  which  any 
head  may  safely  lean. 

The  door  still  stood  ajar,  and  there  was  no  sound 
as  yet  from  Harry's  room.  The  house  was  astir  and 
the  daily  routine  had  begun;  the  maid  was  sweeping 
and  dusting  and  the  hall  doors  were  wide  open  to  let 
the  breeze  search  every  corner.  From  the  kitchen  in 
the  yard  came  a  familiar  before-breakfast  thud;  it 
was  Aunt  Polly  making  beaten  biscuit.  Eleanor 
stepped  out  to  Aunt  Polly's  realm  and  sinking  into  a 
splint  bottomed  chair,  took  a  cup  of  hot  coffee,  and 
then  gave  her  orders  for  the  day.  She  caught  up 
Aunt  Polly's  youngest,  a  dimpled  pickaninny  and 
held  her  on  her  lap.  No  young  thing  in  the  world  is 
prettier  than  a  little  black  baby.  Eleanor  lingered, 
talking  over  commonplace  things  with  the  good  old 
woman.  There  was  a  curious  dual  feeling  in 
Eleanor's  mind  just  then.  She  was  aware  of  a  deep 
peace,  something  strong  beneath  all  "the  sound  and 
foam "  of  life,  and  yet  emotionally  she  was  ex- 


FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE    71 

hausted.  The  storm  of  last  night's  weeping  had 
worn  out  her  power  to  suffer  any  more.  Yet  if 
suffering  should  come  now,  there  would  be  no 
storm.  Of  this  she  felt  an  assurance  as  certain  as  if 
a  divine  voice  had  spoken  it  in  her  ear.  Aunt  Polly 
shook  her  head  as  she  saw  her  go  smiling  into 
the  house  again. 

Beside  her  bedroom  door  she  paused.  She  saw 
her  Harry,  the  dear  head  lying  on  the  pillow,  the 
hand,  no  longer  clenched,  passive  on  the  sheet.  A 
nurse  for  whom  Dr.  Abbott  had  found  he  must 
send  the  night  before,  heard  the  soft  rustle  of  her 
gown,  and  came  noiselessly  from  the  other  side  of 
the  screen  that  stood  between  the  bed  and  the  door. 

"Mr.  Osbourn's  much  better,  madam,"  he  said. 
"  He  has  been  asking  for  you!" 

"  Go  down  and  get  some  breakfast,"  she  replied. 
"I'll  stay  by  my  husband." 

As  she  entered  the  room,  something  caught  at  her 
calmness,  and  her  composure  was  threatened.  Such 
a  pity!  Such  a  pity!  A  choking  lump  filled  her 
throat!  But  the  distress  passed.  Again  the  help 
from  outside  was  vouchsafed.  Ah!  to  God's  children 
in  the  midst  of  the  tumult,  there  is  peace,  if  there  is 
faith.  "  Underneath  are  the  everlasting  arms." 

But  in  that  day  something  happened.  Eleanor  Lee 
said  good-bye  to  her  girlhood.  It  slipped  away 
like  an  outworn  garment.  The  wife  who  stood 
beside  her  prostrate  husband  was  clothed  upon  with 
maturity.  She  was  all  woman  now,  woman  beyond 
girlish  caprice  and  inexperience  for  all  time  to  come. 
She  conquered  her  impulse  to  fly,  and  took  her  seat 
in  a  chair  beside  the  bed.  Then,  flowing  in  from 


72  ELEANOR  LEE 

some  unsuspected  recess  in  her  nature,  provided  for 
just  this  crisis,  perhaps,  ages  before  she  was  born, 
came  the  courage,  the  compassion,  the  indescribable 
tenderness  of  a  wife's  all-comprehending  love.  Not 
in  vain  for  most  of  us,  have  heroic  ancestors  lived 
and  wrought,  have  saintly  men  and  women  of  our 
line,  been  invincible  in  faith  and  triumphant  in 
prayer.  The  fruit  of  every  pure  and  honest  life  re 
peats  itself,  as  harvest  follows  seed-time  through 
successive  generations.  Mingled  with  the  wife's 
gentle  pity  and  tender  devotion,  was  something 
Uiat  Eleanor  had  not  known  before,  but  that  never 
left  her  again,  a  brooding  and  benign  desire  to 
shelter  and  protect  this  man,  the  very  essence  of 
motherhood  that  subtly  pervades  the  love  of  a  true 
woman  for  her  husband. 

"Eleanor?" 

"Yes,  Harry,  I  am  here!" 

"Can  you  ever  pardon  me?  I  cannot  forgive 
myself." 

"Don't  talk  about  it  now,  dear  husband.  Just  be 
quiet  and  get  well." 

"I  never  dreamed  of  being  such  a  beast,  Nellie. 
If  I  had,  I  would  have  stopped  in  time,  but  the  thing 
got  me  by  surprise.  I  was  all  tired  out,  I  suppose.  I 
don't  understand  it  yet,  but  I'm  desperately  ashamed. 
You  know  I  never  meant  to  come  to  you  in  the  state 
I  was  last  night,  to  profane  this  home,  Eleanor,  and 
alarm  you  as  I  did." 

"Don't  talk  about  it,  Harry,"  she  pleaded.  "All 
will  be  well,  if  you'll  listen  to  the  doctor  and  to  me 
from  now  on." 

The  physician,  a  man  of  very  plain  speech,  and  of 


FOR  BETTER,  FOR   WORSE    73 

great  kindness  of  heart  let  Harry  alone,  until  he  was 
about  again  and  at  his  office.  There,  one  afternoon, 
when  business  was  over  for  the  lawyer's  day,  Dr. 
Abbott  called.  In  clear  incisive  words,  hitting  in 
their  brusque  candor,  straight  from  the  shoulder, 
he  told  Harry  Osbourn  that  he  was  on  the  highroad 
to  disgrace  and  death.  Harry  was  wounded  and 
showed  it,  but  the  doctor  paid  no  attention. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  looking  keenly  into  the 
eyes  of  the  younger  man,  "there  are  persons  who 
may  indulge  without  much  danger  of  injury  or  ex 
cess,  in  moderate  drinking.  They  are  of  stronger 
constitution  and  less  sensitive  nervous  organization 
than  you  are.  You  have  turned  the  corner  where  you 
may  safely  take  chances.  Throw  away  every  drop 
of  wine,  brandy,  whiskey,  or  even  beer,  that  you 
have  in  this  place.  Refuse  to  drink  with  friends 
or  clients.  Let  your  wife  keep  the  keys  at  home. 
Absolute  safety  for  you  lies  in  total  abstinence." 

"Aren't  you  rather  hard  on  a  man  for  one  acci 
dent,  doctor?"  said  Harry,  flushing  with  annoyance. 

"Ah!  but  this  was  not  an  accident.  If  I  saw 
a  man  making  straight  for  a  precipice  or  steering 
into  the  den  of  a  rattlesnake,  would  I  not  warn  him  ? 
I  tell  you  again,  Mr.  Osbourn,  your  illness  of  last 
week  was  not  an  accident.  It  was  as  certainly  the 
result  of  a  long  course  of  unwise  indulgence  as  that 
two  and  two  make  four.  I  warn  you  solemnly  that 
you  haven't  the  physique  to  stand  many  such  turns 
as  you've  had.  Two  such  attacks  or  three  at  the 
most,  will  bring  you  to  your  death.  Remember  you 
are  somewhat  enfeebled  by  the  war  and  its  hardships. 
And  my  friend,  you  have  a  great  deal  to  live  for? 


74  ELEANOR  LEE 

Pardon  me  if  I  have  been  blunt,  I  have  warned 
you." 

Harry  was  silent.  He  was  conscious  of  a  good 
deal  of  irritation  and  protest.  This  meddling  old 
gentleman  was  taking  advantage  of  a  fellow  when 
he  was  down. 

"Doctor,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of  conviction, 
"  you  are  wasting  a  lot  of  time  on  me.  I  declare  to 
you  I've  not  had  the  very  faintest  desire  to  take 
a  teaspoonful  of  liquor,  since  I  rose  from  my  bed. 
My  wife's  as  sure  as  I  am  that  the  affair  of  last  week 
was  a  pure  accident,  that  it  will  never  be  repeated. 
Why,  the  very  thought  of  liquor  is  a  disgust  to  me, 
to-day." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,  "said  the  doctor  simply.  "But 
nevertheless  follow  my  prescription  and  heed  my 
counsel.  There  is  no  middle  course  for  you,  sir. 
Let  drink  alone,  and  you'll  be  safe  to  live  to  a  good 
old  age." 

Three  months  slipped  by  so  smoothly  and  swiftly 
that  one  wondered  what  became  of  the  days. 
Harry's  office  absorbed  much  of  his  time,  and  im 
portant  cases  multiplied.  He  had  a  gift  of  eloquence, 
and  was  sought  after  to  plead.  The  South  has 
always  set  a  premium  on  the  convincing  orator. 
Harry  felt  the  delight  that  brims  a  man's  soul  when 
he  sees  that  he  has  power  over  listeners,  of  an  advo 
cate  when  a  jury  is  as  wax  in  his  hands. 

Eleanor  was  occupied  with  her  housekeeping  and 
with  society.  Northern  women  were  not  all  wel 
come  in  that  conservative  Virginia  town,  but 
Eleanor's  charm  captivated  every  one,  and  she  had 
many  friends.  Harry  had  presented  her  with  a  pony 


FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE    75 

and  phaeton,  and  she  went  for  daily  drives  to  the 
beach  or  through  the  woods,  often  picking  up 
acquaintances  and  carrying  them  with  her  for  com 
pany.  She  wrote  to  her  mother  and  Kathleen  invit 
ing  them  to  pay  her  a  long  visit. 

Three  ideal  months!  Then,  the  crash  came.  Came 
without  warning!  All  Eleanor's  life,  calamity  had  a 
way  of  springing  on  her  suddenly,  like  a  tiger  leap 
ing  from  ambush. 

She  had  been  spending  the  afternoon  with  a  friend, 
reading  Shakespeare  and  then  they  had  taken  a  little 
drive  together.  Returning,  at  almost  the  hour  for 
their  late  dinner,  she  had  dropped  Mrs.  Murray  at  her 
door,  and  turned  in  at  her  own  gate. 

Car'line  was  standing  on  the  porch,  watching  for 
her.  She  ran  down  the  steps  to  meet  her  mistress. 

'"  Oh !  Miss  Nellie,"  she  cried,  "  cap'en's  done  locked 
the  do'  and  I  can't  get  in  to  set  the  table.  An'  Lawd 
knows  what  foolishness  he's  doin'  in  thar." 

"  Hush,  Car'line."  She  spoke  sternly,  but  her 
heart  quaked.  She  went  to  the  door  and  tried  it. 
The  doors  of  the  library  and  of  the  dining-room 
which  were  communicating  were  both  locked,  and 
Eleanor  heard  her  husband  moving  about.  She  could 
not  imagine  what  was  occurring  on  the  other  side  of 
the  door. 

The  servants  clustered,  a  curious  group,  at  the  end 
of  the  hall.  Aunt  Polly,  with  her  bright  head  kerchief 
over  her  tightly  knotted  wool,  Car'line,  pretty,  coffee- 
colored,  and  coquettish,  William,  dignified,  and 
soldierly,  all  inquisitive,  yet  sympathetic.  To  none 
of  them  was  the  drama  quite  unfamiliar.  They  knew 
the  ways  of  men  in  drink,  far  better  than  did 


76  ELEANOR   LEE 

Eleanor,  with  the  background  of  a  home  where 
stimulants  were  never  used  except  as  medicine,  and 
even  then  with  the  wariness  exercised  over  poisoa  or 
gunpowder. 

Eleanor  dismissed  the  servants. 

"Go  away,"  she  said. 

"  Wouldn't  I  better  stay,  Miss  Eleanor?  " 

William's  tone  was  respectful,  his  look  anxious. 

"No,  William,  I  don't  want  you.  Please  all  go  to 
the  kitchen,  and  close  that  back  door." 

When  they  had  gone,  she  tapped  softly. 

"Harry,  please  let  me  in,"  she  spoke  in  a  quiet 
voice,  as  one  might  to  a  fractious  child. 

The  door  was  unlocked.  Eleanor  entered.  She 
did  not  soon  forget  the  sight  that  met  her  gaze. 

"Getting  ready  to  move,  Nell,"  said  her  husband 
thickly.  "Thought  I'd  do  what  I  could,  before  you 
got  home.  Hope  you  approve." 

Every  curtain  was  torn  from  its  window  and 
thrown  upon  a  heap  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  The 
shades  had  been  taken  down,  and  were  spread  out 
in  long  straight  lines.  From  mantel  and  china  cup 
board  Harry  had  taken  ornaments  and  cups.  Some 
of  them  were  very  precious  to  Eleanor,  but  they  had 
suffered  damage  and  wreck,  for  with  hasty  hands, 
the  madman  had  piled  or  tossed  them  upon  the 
white  heap  of  curtains. 

"  You  don't  like  it,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of  injury. 
"  Impossible  to  please  a  woman.  Do  your  best — you 
can't  please  her." 

He  lurched  heavily  across  the  room  and  the  hall, 
threw  himself  on  a  divan  in  the  reception  room,  and 
•was  presently  lost  to  everything  in  the  deep  sleep  of 


FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE    77 

intoxication.  Eleanor  turned  the  key  for  awhile  on 
that  sleep. 

Thus  sorrowfully  ended  the  first  three  months  of 
truce  with  the  demon. 

The  wife  had  no  tears  to  shed.  She  stood  in  her 
disordered  [room,  in  that  state  of  havoc,  a  few  mo 
ments  unmoved.  Then  she  summoned  Car'line  and 
William  and  hastily,  so  far  as  she  could,  restored  it 
to  its  usual  state.  Before  she  had  finished  her 
neighbor,  Mrs.  Murray  called,  to  invite  her  to 
luncheon  the  next  day.  She  had  no  excuse  ready  to 
offer,  and  accepted,  that  Mrs.  Murray  might  the 
sooner  go.  By  the  next  day,  Harry  was  oblivious  of 
all  that  he  had  done,  but  it  was  for  his  wife,  the 
calm  before  another  storm. 


vm 

DAY  BY  DAY 

"~\    ff  OTHER   and    Kathleen    are  coming  to 

1%  /•  make  me  a  visit  on  their  way  to  Florida." 

.L  T  JL  Eleanor  was  reading  her  morning  mail 
which  had  just  been  brought  in  from  the  post-office. 

"You  don't  seem  very  much  pleased,"  said  Mr. 
Osbourn. 

"Of  course  I  am  pleased,  but " 

"You  don't  know  just  how  to  entertain  them? 
Give  Kathleen  a  party." 

"  I  fancy  they  would  rather  take  us  as  we  are,  and 
I  don't  think  Kathleen  will  want  anything  special 
done  for  her.  It  is  a  good  while  since  we  three  have 
been  together." 

"Well,  we'll  do  our  best,"  and  Harry,  gay  and 
debonair,  went  off  for  the  day. 

His  wife's  eyes  followed  him  wistfully.  She  had 
pinned  a  white  flower  in  his  buttonhole,  and  as  he 
swung  out  of  the  gate,  he  turned  and  waved  his 
hand.  She  was  reflecting  that  for  some  weeks  at 
least  there  would  be  no  great  danger  in  having  her 
people  with  her.  Eleanor  was  reckoning  on  a  cer 
tain  relief  from  the  anxiety  that  pressed  like  a  stone 
on  her  heart  most  of  the  time.  The  heavy  hearts 
that  some  women  carry,  hidden  behind  their  smiles, 
are  pitiful.  Surely  Christ  sees  them  with  deep  com 
passion.  As  Eleanor  read  her  Bible  that  morning,  a 

78 


DAT  BT  DAT  79 

new  meaning  made  itself  felt  in  the  Lord's  words, 
"Take  no  thought  for  the  morrow.  The  morrow 
shall  take  thought  for  the  things  of  itself.  Sufficient 
unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof."  The  storm  had 
come  and  gone.  She  felt  as  if  in  its  ground-swell 
still.  The  morning  slipped  away. 

A  messenger  rang  the  door-bell,  and  a  parcel  was 
handed  in.  It  contained  two  dress  patterns,  one  of 
rich  black  silk,  the  other  of  sumptuous  white  brocade 
sprinkled  with  pink  rosebuds.  A  sealed  note  from 
her  husband  fell  out  of  the  package. 

"  Take  these  for  atonement,  my  darling,"  he  said, 
"and  for  goodness  sake,  stop  worrying.  I  know 
you  are  afraid  to  let  your  mother  come  here,  but 
you  needn't  be.  I'll  never  again,  never,  descend  into 
the  depths  I  did  a  week  ago.  You  are  an  angel,  so 
please  accept  this  from  your  devoted  and  penitent 
Harry." 

Eleanor  cried  a  little  over  the  letter  and  the  present, 
for  there  was  no  power  of  belief,  except  in  her  hus 
band's  good  intentions,  left  in  her  heart.  But  she 
loved  him,  not  the  less  in  his  weakness;  even  more, 
she  thought,  though  something  very  precious,  re 
spect,  reverence  and  dependence  had  gone  from  their 
relation.  But  Love  suffereth  long  and  is  kind;  Love 
hopeth  all  things;  she  would  try  to  hope. 

For  atonement!  Poor  Harry!  As  if  thus  atone 
ment  could  be  made. 

In  the  bottom  of  her  cedar  chest,  lay  the  fragments 
of  a  pale  blue  satin  gown  of  which  she  had  been 
fond.  Harry,  in  that  last  maniac  fury  of  his,  had 
taken  it  from  its  nail,  and  cut  it  into  strips,  laughing 
when  he  saw  her  consternation.  She  had  bundled  it 


8o  ELEANOR  LEE 

out  of  sight,  and  had  fancied  that  he  had  no  recollec 
tion  of  his  act.  The  letter  proved  it  otherwise. 

She  was  a  bit  sorry  that  he  had  spent  so  much 
money  just  now,  for,  the  exchequer  of  a  drunkard  is 
a  bag  with  holes,  and  Eleanor  knew  they  were  run 
ning  behind.  But  she  laid  away  the  bravery  of  the 
shining  silks  and  thanked  him  with  gracious  sweet 
ness  when  he  came  home  at  night. 

"  If  you  could  but  trust  me!  "  he  said.  "  It  would 
be  a  help! " 

People  do  not  always  understand  that  intemperance 
is  a  malady,  that  it  has  its  rhythmic  periods  and  pauses, 
and  that  its  victim  is  as  much  to  be  commiserated 
as  blamed.  In  many  cases,  the  efforts  to  rout  the 
fell  disease  intrenched  in  his  body,  and  to  recover  his 
lost  liberty  are  brave  and  sincere.  But  when  the 
devil  has  once  gone  out  of  a  man,  unless  One  strong 
enough  to  vanquish  him  and  all  his  host,  take  pos 
session  of  the  empty  place,  and  hold  the  fort,  seven 
devils  more  malignant  than  the  first  may  at  any  time 
return.  Pledges,  vows,  resolves  are  like  the  green 
withes  that  Samson  burst  like  tow.  Only  the  grace 
of  God  in  the  heart  can  produce  a  permanent  cure. 
Not  reformation  is  wanted,  but  remedy.  Not  prom 
ises,  but  a  radical  change. 

Eleanor  was  to  be  taught  in  God's  school,  how  to 
live  by  the  day.  It  is  an  art  worth  much  painstaking 
to  acquire.  She  feigned  not  to  see  that  people  in 
town  noticed  the  gradual  deterioration  in  Harry,  and 
she  carried  her  head  so  regally,  that  if  any  pitied  her, 
they  did  it  behind  her  back.  She  fulfilled  to  the  letter, 
the  rule  she  had  made  for  herself,  that  to  no  human 
being  would  she  speak  of  Harry's  lapses  from  so- 


DAT  BT  DAT  81 

briety;  not  to  mother,  sister,  friend  or  acquaintance. 
Her  pastor  occasionally  called,  but  though  women 
often  gave  him  confidences,  he  received  none  from 
Eleanor.  The  old  doctor  who  perfectly  knew  the 
battle  she  was  waging,  did  not  dare  to  offer  a  help 
ing  hand.  He  went  again  and  again  to  her  husband's 
office,  but  when  he  called  at  the  home,  the  wife's 
demeanor  forbade  the  slightest  allusion  to  the  trouble. 
It  was  a  barrier  none  could  cross. 

"There  must  be  a  skeleton  in  her  closet,"  said  a 
friend,  "but  she  keeps  it  there,  with  the  door  bolted 
and  barred." 

"A  very  pearl  of  womanhood,"  said  Dr.  Abbott, 
shaking  his  shaggy  head,  "  splendid  in  her  courage, 
but  this  will  kill  her,  if  it  lasts  much  longer,  and  it's 
bound  to  kill  him." 

"There  is  a  way  out  and  up,"  replied  the  doctor's 
wife,  the  only  person  with  whom  he  discussed  the 
matter. 

"I'd  like  to  find  it." 

"  Ah,  dear!  That  way  is  only  to  be  found  by  those 
who  follow  a  greater  healer  than  you  are! " 

"  Don't,  Emilie,  don't  be  unscientific." 

"  There  is  a  science  that  transcends  yours,  dear. 
If  Mr.  Osbourn  could  be  converted,  through  and 
through,  he'd  slough  off  this  sin,  by  Christ's  help. 
I'm  praying  for  him,  and  for  his  wife.  I  feel  that 
some  light  will  be  given  soon!  " 

"God  grant  it,"  said  the  doctor  reverently.  His 
wife  was  of  those  who  receive  the  word  as  little  chil 
dren  do,  simply  and  without  reserve,  and  of  such 
are  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

When  Mrs.   Lee  arrived  everything  was  at  peace. 


82  ELEANOR   LEE 

She  and  Kathleen  fell  in  love  with  the  beautiful  old 
town,  and  liked  the  people.  Eleanor's  home  life  as 
sumed  an  ideal  aspect  in  their  eyes,  and  they  sus 
pected  no  hidden  trouble. 

Harry  was  at  his  best,  a  model  host,  and  spared  no 
attentions  that  were  graceful  and  thoughtful.  Recall 
ing  the  old  days  of  the  Judge's  triumphs,  Mrs.  Lee  took 
a  sympathetic  interest  in  Harry's  professional  work, 
listened  when  he  related  stories  of  his  cases,  and  was 
able  to  make  intelligent  comments,  which  pleased 
and  drew  him  out.  Kathleen,  sparkling,  vivacious, 
with  her  full  share  of  the  family  good  looks,  was  a 
great  favorite.  Every  one  urged  the  Lees  to  stay, 
and  Eleanor,  who  could  not  do  so,  was  half  afraid 
they  would  wonder  at  her  lack  of  spontaneity. 
They  thought  it  due  to  her  yearning  for  the  old 
home. 

"  You  will  both  come  home  to  Mattie  Dunmore's 
wedding  next  month,  won't  you?"  asked  Kathleen, 
the  day  before  they  left.  "She  and  Donald  are  to  be 
married  in  church,  and  they  are  going  straight  to  their 
new  home,  without  a  wedding  journey.  Mattie  says 
they  will  take  that  later.  Perhaps  go  abroad  next 
summer." 

"  I  can't  leave,"  said  Harry,  "  but  there's  no  reason 
why  Eleanor  should  not  be  a  wedding  guest.  She 
ought  to  go  North  awhile  anyway." 

"  Well,  Donald  Waugh  being  my  ancient  enemy," 
said  Eleanor  laughing,  "I  see  no  occasion  for  leaving 
you  to  fend  for  yourself,  while  I  assist  at  his  wedding. 
It's  odd  that  Mattie  and  he  have  waited  so  long." 

"Not  so  very  odd.  Mattie  got  it  into  her  head 
that  she  ought  to  spend  her  life  as  a  trained  nurse, 


DAT  BT  DAT  83 

and  Donald  has  had  hard  work  persuading  her  to 
give  up  that  career.  Besides  Donald  is  very  busy 
making  money.  He's  really  frightfully  rich,  you 
know,  and  Mattie  and  he  will  live  in  a  perfect  palace. 
But  he's  been  too  busy  to  marry,  I  do  believe." 

"May  they  be  very,  very  happy,"  said  Eleanor, 
quietly. 

When  her  mother  and  sister  had  retired  that  night, 
Harry  brought  up  the  matter  again.  Eleanor  noted 
with  dismay  the  restlessness  of  manner  that  was  the 
precursor  of  what  she  had  learned  to  dread,  She 
was  relieved  that  her  mother's  trunks  had  gone,  and 
that  the  travellers  were  to  leave  on  the  express  early 
next  day.  Heaven  grant  her  to  be  alone  with  Harry, 
if  he  were  on  the  verge  of  another  outbreak. 

"I  want  you  to  go  to  Mr.  Waugh's  marriage 
whether  I  do  or  not.  I'll  go  if  I  can  manage  it. 
Can't  you  see,  Nellie,  that  if  he's  so  rich,  he  may 
help  me  to  something  in  the  line  of  a  steady  job  up 
there  ?  I'm  dead  tired  of  this  old  coach  of  a  town." 

"Why,  I  thought  you  liked  it  so  much." 

"Well,  you  thought  wrong.  I  can't  keep  the 
pace.  Thanks  to  your  straight-laced  notions  abetted 
by  that  old  fool  of  a  doctor,  I'm  insulting  people  and 
turning  off  practice  every  day.  A  man  can't  get  on 
here  by  being  a  Pharisee." 

"Oh!  Harry!" 

His  impatience  was  so  acute  that  it  flashed  a  warn 
ing  to  her  of  danger  ahead. 

She  was  silent,  waiting.  Her  silence  exasperated 
him  in  his  mood  of  unreason. 

"Don't,  for  pity's  sake,  sit  there  like  the  sphinx, 
Eleanor,  say  something.  You  needn't  be  dumb." 


84  ELEANOR  LEE 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say." 

"  You  used  to  have  plenty  to  say  for  yourself,  but 
you  have  changed.  I  wish  if  you  can't  entertain  a 
man,  when  heaven  knows  he's  got  enough  to  depress 
him,  you'd  pack  up  and  go  away  with  your  mother 
for  awhile.  Then  I  wouldn't  see  your  pale  face  re 
proaching  me.  If  you  mean  to  stay  here,  you  may 
as  well  smile.  I  won't  stand  being  looked  at  as  if  I 
were  the  offscouring  of  the  earth." 

"  Harry,  dear  Harry,  speak  low.  You'll  be  over 
heard." 

He  scowled.  Eleanor  turned  away  to  hide  the 
tears  that  were  brimming  in  her  eyes,  and  to  control 
her  quivering  lip.  She  stood  tall,  white  and  fair  in  her 
night-dress,  its  folds  falling  to  her  feet.  Her  hair  hung 
in  two  long  braids.  Surely  her  guardian  angel  was 
sorry  for  her,  such  a  child  she  looked,  and  in  so  much 
distress.  A  slight  noise  made  her  turn  round  hastily. 

"  Harry  !  "  she  cried,  "  what  are  you  doing  ?  " 

He  replied  after  an  instant's  hesitation. 

"  Nothing  much.     Let  me  alone." 

"  But  I  won't." 

He  was  setting  a  small  flat  brown  bottle  on  a  little 
stand  which  held  candles  and  a  match-tray  for  the 
night.  Beside  it  was  a  glass.  He  lifted  the  bottle  to 
pour  a  dram.  Eleanor  snatched  it  from  him. 

"  I  need  this,  dear,"  he  said,  coaxingly.  "  I'll  need 
it  in  the  night.  Can't  you  see  I  am  not  myself  ?  I 
am  ill." 

"In  my  own  room,  in  my  very  presence!  Oh, 
Harry,  my  darling,  what  ails  you  ?  Preparing  for 
what  you  know  will  follow!  " 

"  Don't  call  me  darling! "  he  said  savagely.     "  Don't 


DAT  BT  DAT  85 

you  dare  speak  to  me  again  till  you  can  behave  like  a 
wife.  I  wonder  at  you,  Eleanor!  You  are  a  stone!  " 

It  was  all  done  in  a  second,  and  neither  man  nor 
woman  had  raised  their  tones,  but  Eleanor  had 
snatched  the  bottle  and  poured  what  it  held  out  of 
the  window  on  the  garden  bed.  Harry  faced  her, 
black  with  anger.  She  returned  his  gaze,  steadily, 
fearlessly,  till  his  eyes  dropped,  and  his  countenance 
cleared. 

"You  little  Puritan!"  he  said.  "Where's  the 
harm  in  one  drink  ?  That  was  all  I  wanted,  I  give 
you  my  word.  And  that  was  good  stuff!  " 

Then  she  knelt  by  the  bed  where  he  had  thrown 
himself,  smoothing  his  forehead  and  his  hair,  kissed 
him,  as  a  mother  might  a  willful  but  beloved  child. 

"Merciful  Saviour!"  she  cried,  "must  we  go 
through  this  all  again,  so  soon,  so  soon  ?" 

"Be  still,  dear,"  he  said,  gently.  "Come  to  rest. 
I  will  try  to  forget  about  it,  and  we'll  go  to  sleep." 

But  Eleanor  put  him  off,  and  sat  by  the  window 
the  livelong  night.  Sometimes  he  slept.  Some 
times  he  resolved  to  dress  and  go  down  town.  She 
restrained  him  with  eyes  that  did  not  shrink,  soothing 
him  with  her  voice  that  had  in  it  the  note  of  a  tender 
authority. 

Towards  morning,  Harry  drowsed  off,  and  was  ap 
parently  fast  asleep,  and  presently  Eleanor  felt  that  for 
the  moment  it  was  safe  to  leave  him  and  relax  her 
vigilance.  She  went  to  her  dressing-room  to  bathe 
and  put  on  her  clothes.  It  was  almost  day.  She 
was  grateful  for  the  dawn.  Into  her  mind  came  a 
stanza  of  an  old  hymn  often  sung  in  prayer-meetings 
at  home. 


86  ELEANOR  LEE 

"  When  through  fiery  trials  thy  pathway  shall  lie 
My  grace  all-sufficient  shall  be  thy  supply. 
The  flame  shall  not  hurt  thee,  I  only  design, 
Thy  dross  to  consume,  and  thy  gold  to  refine." 

A  slight  movement  in  her  room  made  her  turn  and 
listen.  She  hastened  back. 

Stealthily,  like  a  fleeing  burglar,  his  garments  in 
his  hand,  Harry  was  escaping  by  the  window,  mean 
ing  to  climb  to  the  ground.  When  she  spoke  to  him 
he  came  sheepishly  back. 

"One  drink,  Eleanor,  will  steady  my  nerves,  and 
tide  me  over  this  bout,  till  your  mother  and  Kathleen 
are  gone.  I  order  you  to  give  it  me.  You  promised 
to  obey,  don't  you  know  ?" 

"Harry,  I  would  die  before  I  would  give  it  you," 
she  said.  "  You  shall  not  have  a  drop  in  this  house. 
But  I'll  have  Polly  make  you  some  strong  coffee." 

She  called  from  the  window  to  the  kitchen  where 
Aunt  Polly  was  bending  over  her  breakfast  rolls. 

"Hurry,  Aunt  Polly,  send  me  a  pot  of  your  very 
strongest  coffee,  quick." 

The  will  of  the  wife  controlled  the  will  of  the 
husband,  though  the  tyranny  of  his  appetite  was 
upon  him  like  a  strong  man  armed.  He  waited  for 
the  coffee.  And  Mrs.  Lee  and  Kathleen  set  off  a  little 
later  on  their  journey  South  in  blissful  ignorance  of 
the  strife  that  had  been  waged  under  that  roof  that 
night. 

"I  can't  imagine  what  makes  Eleanor  so  deathly 
pale,"  said  Kathleen. 

"The  climate  accounts  for  it,"  answered  Mrs.  Lee. 


IX 

SOME  OF  THE  NEIGHBORS 

THINGS  may  be  trying  enough,  but  they 
rarely  break  one  down,  when  one  is  young 
^^  and  strong  and  of  sanguine  temperament. 
Eleanor  had  been  brought  up  in  a  country  village 
where  people  knew  and  cared  for  one  another,  and  it 
was  the  most  natural  impulse  in  the  world  for  her  to 
seek  out  and  minister  to  her  neighbors  in  these  days. 
Some  of  them  were  friendly,  but  others  held  stub 
bornly  aloof.  They  were  embittered  by  the  loss  of 
property,  and  by  the  overthrow  of  the  pleasant 
world  to  which  they  had  been  used.  The  presence 
in  their  midst  of  United  States  naval  officers,  and  of 
a  small  army  contingent,  the  flags  on  the  shipping  in 
the  harbor,  and  the  national  airs  played  by  the 
marine  bands,  morning  and  evening  were  an  offense. 
Most  of  all  they  resented  the  intrusion  in  the  com 
munity  of  prosperous  Northerners  allied  to  those  who 
had  conquered  them,  and  the  women  were  much 
slower  than  the  men  to  forgive  and  forget.  Still, 
there  is  magic  in  sincerity  and  kindness  and  Eleanor 
won  her  way. 

She  took  the  first  step  one  day  when  she  was  par 
ticularly  downcast  and  was  fighting  hard  to  be 
cheerful. 

"Look  here,"  she  said  to  herself.  "This  will 
never  do.  You  are  throwing  away  your  life,  when 

87 


88  ELEANOR  LEE 

you  ought  to  be  making  the  best  of  it,  drawing  into 
your  shell,  when  you  ought  to  be  helping  along 
somewhere.  But  how  shall  you  begin  ?  " 

Eleanor  had  a  visiting  list,  and  she  looked  it  over. 
There  were  calls  she  had  not  returned;  many  people 
from  Northern  states  had,  like  the  Osbourns,  sought 
this  particular  city  for  business  reasons.  The  naval 
people  formed  a  charming  and  quite  independent 
circle  of  their  own  but  Eleanor  was  often  invited 
to  their  luncheons  and  dinners.  Not  far  from  her 
home  was  a  large  boarding-house,  conducted  by  a 
Southern  gentlewoman  and  thronged  by  agreeable 
people  from  the  North.  Eleanor  knew  most  of  these 
slightly.  But  of  the  Southern  neighbors  only  a  very 
few  had  called,  and  those  had  greatly  pleased  and 
attracted  her,  by  their  low  voices,  gentle  breeding, 
and  air  of  dignified  reticence. 

Close  by,  in  a  home  that  like  her  own,  stood 
within  a  walled  garden,  was  a  family  of  whom  she 
had  occasional  glimpses,  a  mother  and  two  maiden 
daughters.  The  mother,  a  slender  white  haired 
matron,  sat  in  front  of  her  in  church,  but  she  did  not 
recall  ever  observing  the  other  ladies  in  her  company. 

"Aunt  Polly,"  she  inquired,  "who  are  those 
ladies  next  door?" 

"Miss  Eleanor,"  answered  the  old  cook  with  a 
twinkle  in  her  eye,  "  dey's  de  bluest  blooded  people 
in  dis  town,  but  dey  don't  'sociate  wit"  any  one." 

"Do  they  never  go  out?" 

"Miss  Dora  and  Miss  Clemmie,  dey  hasn't  been 
outside  de  gate  by  daylight  in  more'n  twenty  years. 
Dey  creeps  out  sometimes  after  dark." 

"  How  very  strange! " 


SOME  OF  THE  NEIGHBORS    89 

"  Yas'm,"  said  Aunt  Polly,  "dey  bowed  deir  heads 
befo'  the  storm,  dey  did,"  the  old  woman  went  on. 
"Miss  Clemmie  and  Miss  Dora  was  bof  proud. 
When  dey  brother  did  somefm'  wrong,  and  people 
knew,  and  he  ran  away,  dey  never  look  de  world  in 
de  face  again.  Old  Miss  Mary,  dey  all's  mother  was 
not  so  proud.  Dey  was  like  the  Pomfrets;  she  was 
a  Hayes." 

Aunt  Polly  had  a  queer  feeling  of  jealousy  for  this 
young  Northern  mistress.  In  her  heart,  the  black 
woman  had  a  sort  of  respect  for  Southern  ladies  that 
she  did  not  give  their  Northern  sisters.  She  was 
afraid  that  Mrs.  Osbourn  might  be  snubbed,  and  she 
was  always  on  the  watch  to  keep  her  from  treading 
on  dangerous  ground.  To  any  one  who  understood 
it  the  by-play  was  well  worth  watching. 

Aunt  Polly  reiterated,  "De  ole  lady  a  Hayes, 
Miss  Eleanor,  and  de  young  ladies  is  Pomfrets  froo 
and  froo." 

As  Eleanor  knew  nothing  of  the  family  traits  of 
either  the  Hayes  or  the  Pomfret  connection,  this  did 
not  mean  much  to  her,  but  she  determined  to  effect 
an  entrance  into  that  closed  castle  if  she  could.  She 
took  a  plate  of  dainty  confectionery  in  her  hand, 
covered  it  with  her  finest  napkin,  and  waylaid  the 
old  lady  as  she  came  home  from  her  marketing. 

"Pardon  me,  Mrs.  Pomfret,"  she  said.  "May 
I  take  a  neighbor's  privilege,  and  offer  you  some 
of  my  cakes  ?  " 

"  How  very  nice  they  look; "  the  old  lady  beamed 
graciously,  "but  you  will  be  robbing  yourself." 

"Oh  not  at  all;  please  take  the  plate  home  with 
you,  if  it  isn't  too  much  to  add  to  your  basket." 


90  ELEANOR  LEE 

"  The  basket  is  not  heavy,  dear.  Our  little  wants 
are  soon  supplied." 

The  next  morning,  Aunt  Polly  with  eyes  as  big  as 
saucers,  came  in  bringing  waffles  hot  from  the  fire, 
which  Mrs.  Pomfret  had  sent  over  by  a  dusky  little 
barefoot  maid,  for  the  lady's  breakfast,  and  as  a 
return  of  the  compliment. 

It  came  to  pass  that  these  women,  who  received 
almost  no  visitors,  and  who  went  nowhere,  unbarred 
their  doors  and  their  hearts  to  Eleanor,  and  she 
would  slip  over  the  lawn  in  the  morning,  a  bit 
of  needlework  in  her  hand,  to  sit  with  them  and  sew. 
They  did  just  two  things,  or  perhaps  three,  and 
these  three  they  had  been  doing  without  interruption 
for  twenty  years.  The  roses  had  gone  from  their 
cheeks,  and  the  youth  from  their  eyes,  as  they  had 
sat  day  by  day  working  scripture  scenes,  and  flower 
pieces  in  worsted  on  canvas,  in  tent  stitch  and  cross 
stitch.  The  house  was  full  of  their  handiwork.  To 
Eleanor  it  seemed  as  if  they  had  distilled  their  very 
souls  drop  by  drop  at  the  point  of  a  needle,  over  this 
wasteful  and  useless  work,  which  they  never  sold, 
or  exhibited,  or  gave  away;  by  which  they  simply 
killed  time.  When  they  had  spent  a  certain  number 
of  hours  at  their  work,  they  laid  it  by  and  read 
Plutarch's  lives,  and  Rollin's  Ancient  History. 

"Of  course  my  dear,  we  read  our  Bibles,  in  our 
own  rooms  every  morning  and  evening,  as  all  gentle 
women  do,"  said  Miss  Clemmie,  "but  our  father 
used  to  advise  us  to  improve  our  minds  with  history, 
and  we  read  these  books  over  and  over.  No,  I  thank 
you,  we  prefer  not  to  dissipate  our  powers  with  any 
thing  modern.  Mother  now,  likes  a  story,"  as  if 


SOME  OF  THE  NEIGHBORS    91 

mother  were  a  child  to  be  indulged,  "  if  you  wish  to 
lend  her  something,  you  may,  we'll  not  object." 

They  grew  very  fond  of  Eleanor,  and  watched  for 
her  visits,  excusing  to  one  another  their  interest,  and 
saying  that  if  she  had  belonged  to  the  place,  they 
could  not  accept  her  friendship,  but  as  she  was  a 
stranger  and  probably  a  sojourner  there  was  no  harm. 
Nevertheless  it  brightened  them  to  emerge  even  in 
this  little  trembling  way  from  the  seclusion  in  which 
they  had  long  been  buried,  and  they  learned  to  know 
as  much  of  Eleanor's  life  as  she  was  willing  to  reveal. 
Only  the  externals  though. 

For  example,  there  was  the  dinner  party  that  came 
so  near  shipwreck,  a  keen  mortification  at  the  mo 
ment,  but  an  amusing  episode  as  years  went  by,  and 
it  receded  into  the  opaline  haze  of  memory. 

Money  was  not  so  plenty  as  it  had  been.  Eleanor 
had  never  before  felt  the  pinch  of  poverty,  the  misery 
of  not  being  able  to  pay  a  bill  when  it  is  presented,  the 
embarrassment  of  having  nothing  for  current  ex 
penses.  In  her  girlhood's  home  there  was  always 
enough  though  no  great  surplus  and,  without  display 
there  had  been  real  comfort.  She  thought  of  this  when 
Kathleen  was  with  her,  and  she  observed  the  ease  of 
her  mind,  her  mother's  pocketbook,  sufficiently  sup 
plied,  Kathleen's  wardrobe,  so  nicely  stocked  with 
little  things,  gloves,  ribbons,  shoes,  the  finishings  of 
a  lady's  wardrobe.  She  had  been  rigidly  trained 
never  to  disturb  capital,  and  so  her  little  investments, 
bringing  occasional  small  dividends,  did  not  help  her 
out. 

Harry  explained  elaborately  that  he  had  to  wait 
long  for  his  funds,  that  fees  came  in  slowly,  and  that 


92  ELEANOR   LEE 

settlements  were  never  prompt.  Meanwhile  he  gave 
her  leave  to  buy  all  she  wanted  on  credit,  saying  that 
he  would  pay  the  bills. 

But  when  she  saw  his  face  darken  over  these  very 
bills,  and  heard  him  repeat  wonderingly  this  and  the 
other  item,  she  stopped  buying  on  credit  and  did 
without.  To  her  confusion,  her  husband  was  at 
once  lavish  and  penurious.  He  would  buy  for  her 
quantities  of  things  she  did  not  need  or  want,  and 
send  her  two  gowns  at  once,  or  present  her  with  ex 
pensive  toys,  such  as  lace  fans  or  carved  ivory  chess 
men,  when  she  was  wearing  shabby  shoes.  Life 
was  a  good  deal  of  a  strain  to  poor  Eleanor.  Things 
grew  sordid. 

She  forgot  part  of  the  strain  when  she  sat  in  the 
placid  little  rose-perfumed  parlor  of  the  Pomfrets, 
fragrant  with  the  potpourri  of  many  a  summer,  and 
saw  the  story  of  the  Sleeping  Beauty  enacted  before 
her  eyes.  She  began  to  wonder  and  plan,  how  she 
should  yet  find  some  wandering  Prince  and  present 
him  to  Miss  Clemmie  or  Miss  Dora,  neither  of  whom 
would  have  looked  at  a  Prince. 

Meanwhile  Harry  urged  her  to  give  a  dinner. 
There  were  some  army  friends  of  his  at  the  hotel. 
They  were  there  for  only  a  few  days,  and  he  wished 
to  show  them  an  attention. 

"  Let  the  dinner  be  very  good  indeed,"  he  said,  "  I 
want  them  to  see  that  you  know  how  to  do  things." 

They  had  no  accounts  with  butcher,  baker  or 
market  man.  Here,  Eleanor  had  insisted  upon  pay 
ing  as  she  went  along,  and  Harry  handed  her  an 
extra  amount  for  the  bill  of  fare. 

"Send  Bob  early  to  market,"  he  said,  "before  the 


SOME  OF  THE  NEIGHBORS    93 

best  things  are  picked  over."  Bob  was  a  new  boy, 
who  had  temporarily  taken  William's  place,  William 
being  ill. 

The  soup,  and  the  dessert  were  made  ready  the 
day  before,  all  but  the  ice-cream  which  Aunt  Polly 
compounded  the  last  thing.  When  the  day  of  the 
party  arrived  it  was  so  beautiful,  that  after  planning 
her  dinner  and  arranging  her  house,  Eleanor  thought 
she  would  ask  old  Mrs.  Pomfret  to  go  with  her  for  a 
drive.  They  went  a  good  many  miles,  and  the  pony 
cast  a  shoe;  a  blacksmith  had  to  be  found,  and  alto 
gether  they  were  late  in  returning. 

"I'll  have  to  hurry,"  she  said.  "I  must  set  my 
own  table,  and  dress,  but  Aunt  Polly's  a  host,  she'll 
have  everything  on  time." 

The  old  lady  shook  her  head.  "Dear,  if  I  were 
giving  a  dinner,  I'd  not  stir  outside  my  door  all  day 
long." 

"Oh,  mother  never  stayed  at  home  when  she  ex 
pected  guests,"  said  Eleanor  lightly.  "She  thought 
it  made  you  so  much  fresher,  to  go  out,  and  not  to 
worry  over  things." 

Aunt  Polly  met  her  mistress  with  a  face  of  despair. 

"  Miss  Eleanor,  that  no-account  Bob  done  gone  and 
never  come  back,  since  he  went  off  this  morning." 

The  markets  were  closed.  It  was  now  too  late  to 
buy  or  cook  a  roast.  No  chickens  were  to  be  had 
at  that  hour  for  broiling. 

Eleanor  looked  up  at  the  clock.  Eight  people  com 
ing  to  dine  by  express  invitation  and  nothing  to  set 
before  them  but  clear  soup,  a  salad  and  ice  cream. 
Harry  would  be  so  vexed ;  she  felt  so  mortified.  Her 
chagrin  brought  tears  to  her  eyes. 


94  ELEANOR  LEE 

Bob  never  did  appear,  and  he  and  the  ten  dollar 
bill  he  had  carried  to  market  were  lost  in  the  limbo 
of  vanished  articles  from  that  day  on. 

"  Aunt  Polly,"  said  the  little  mistress,  "  you've  got 
to  conjure  up  a  dinner.  There's  nothing  else  to  do. 
Please  help  me  out." 

Aunt  Polly  rose  to  the  occasion. 

"You  Bill,"  she  called  to  her  husband,  who  was 
nodding  by  her  kitchen  fire,  "you  go  straight  off 
somewhere  and  ketch  some  fish.  Or  get  some  fish 
somehow.  Miss  Eleanor  say  she  pay  for  them  twice 
over.  Get  spots,  Bill,  quick." 

"Spots  "were  peculiarly  delicate  and  toothsome 
and  every  evening  the  fishermen  brought  boats  laden 
with  them,  to  the  city  wharves.  Aunt  Polly  knew 
how  to  cook  them  appetizingly,  so  that  they  were  a 
feast. 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do  for  a  roast  ?  " 

Aunt  Polly  could  offer  no  advice.  She  had  vege 
tables  on,  bubbling  away  on  the  stove,  but  a  roast  of 
meat,  or  fowl,  was  beyond  her. 

"I  shall  forage,"  said  the  lady  of  the  house  with 
decision.  "Or  I  shall  borrow.  I'm  going  over  to 
borrow  from  those  people  in  the  house  at  the  corner. 
I  don't  know  them,  but  I'll  state  the  extremity." 

"Honey,  don't,"  pleaded  Aunt  Polly,  but  Eleanor 
was  firm.  "  Mrs.  Moore  won't  let  you  tell  her." 

"I  smell  something  very  savory  coming  from  that 
kitchen,"  she  announced. 

Aunt  Polly  trembled  as  her  mistress  proceeded  to 
call  on  the  neighbors  who  occupied  the  big  house. 

To  a  less  direct  and  less  desperate  person  the 
situation  would  have  been  confusing,  for  as  Eleanor 


SOME  OF  THE  NEIGHBORS    95 

went  up  the  walk  to  their  porch  her  unknown 
neighbors  were  grouped  on  their  veranda.  The 
oldest  lady  in  the  circle  came  forward  to  meet 
her,  and  the  men  in  the  party  rose,  and  remained 
standing  until  she  passed  around  the  corner  with 
their  mother. 

"  That's  Harry  Osbourn's  wife,"  said  one  of  them. 

"  She's  very  charming,"  commented  the  other. 

"  But  it  is  impertinent  to  say  the  least,  her  calling 
here,"  remarked  one  of  the  young  girls,  who  heard 
with  surprise  Eleanor's  modest  request  for  an  inter 
view  with  her  mother. 

"Don't  say  that,  sister  Hattie,  you  don't  know," 
the  brother  interposed. 

He  was  touched  by  Eleanor's  self-possession  and 
divined  some  sort  of  dilemma.  All  good  men  are 
compassionate  when  women  need  a  lift. 

Meanwhile,  as  simply  as  if  she  had  been  making 
an  explanation  to  her  own  mother  at  home,  Eleanor 
related  the  story  of  the  day's  absurd  catastrophe  to  a 
woman  and  a  housewife  whom  she  had  never  seen 
before.  The  lady  was  a  very  pronounced  foe  of  all 
Northerners,  she  would  have  said  she  despised  them 
root  and  branch,  but  she  had  a  woman's  and  a  house 
wife's  heart.  Also  she  was  a  Virginian,  bred  up  in 
the  traditions  of  Southern  hospitality. 

"  My  child,  I  quite  understand,"  said  Mrs.  Moore. 
"Don't tell  me  any  more.  Providentially  I  have  a  fine 
pair  of  roast  chickens  just  done  to  a  turn,  I  will  send 
them  over  to  you.  My  family  can  dine  without  them. 
We  of  course  have  a  ham  in  the  house.  I  am  thank 
ful  you  came  to  me.  It  must  be  hard  for  one  who 
does  not  know  Southern  negroes  to  accommodate 


96  ELEANOR  LEE 

herself  to  them.  You  did  very  wrong  to  trust  that 
boy  Bob  with  so  much  money.  But  go  home  and 
put  on  a  pretty  gown  and  don't  give  the  matter  an 
other  thought.  You  say  you  have  everything  else 
right  for  your  dinner,  dear  ?  That  is  well.  You  were 
very  wise  to  come  to  me." 

The  amazed  group  on  the  piazza  were  still  more 
stupefied  to  see  their  mother  take  a  cordial  leave  of 
the  guest  and  to  hear  her  say  at  parting, 

"  My  daughters  and  I  will  call  on  you  soon!  " 

"Mother!"  exclaimed  the  elder  daughter  as  she 
quietly  returned  to  the  circle. 

"You  heard  what  I  said,  my  dear.  That  young 
woman  is  a  perfect  lady.  We  will  call  on  her  to 
morrow." 

The  dinner  passed  off  without  a  hitch  and  not  even 
Harry  suspected  that  his  wife  had  endured  her  own 
tribulations  over  it. 

The  Moores  proved  later  an  acquisition.  Through 
the  acquaintance  formed  in  this  unconventional 
fashion  the  Osbourns  were  introduced  to  an  ex 
clusive  and  courtly  set  of  people  whom  they  would 
not  otherwise  have  met;  people  of  a  refinement  and 
cordiality  which  made  intercourse  with  them  most 
satisfactory. 


X 

AUNT  POLLY'S  MORALS 

WITHOUT  Aunt  Polly,  Eleanor  would  have 
been  much  like  a  ship  without  a  helm. 
She  was  a  perfect  tower  of  defense  in 
some  phases  of  her  nature.  In  others,  Polly  was 
rather  a  puzzle;  for  while  her  piety  was  undoubted, 
her  notions  of  honesty  in  little  things  were  vague, 
and  though  she  coddled  Eleanor,  and  was  more  than 
assiduous  in  waiting  on  her,  hand  and  foot,  she  was 
very  severe  and  even  cruel  to  her  own  children,  of 
whom  she  had  three.  This  latter  peculiarity  was 
frequently  seen  in  the  colored  people.  They 
disciplined  their  children  severely,  yet  no  one  could 
doubt  their  fondness  for  them,  and  Eleanor  learned 
at  last  to  bear  with  fortitude  the  wails  that  came 
from  the  kitchen  when  Aunt  Polly  was  in  a  mood  to 
administer  punishment.  The  children  were  jolly 
little  beings,  and  throve  apace,  not  much  disturbed 
by  their  mother's  summary  method  of  knocking  them 
over  with  a  stick  from  the  woodpile  when  she  was 
angry. 

"  Pray,  Eleanor,  how  many  people  live  in  our 
kitchen  ?  "  said  Harry  one  morning  standing  by  the 
window  and  looking  out.  It  was  earlier  than  usual, 
and  he  was  shaving  with  the  blind  drawn  up. 

"Bill,  and  Polly,  and  Ada,  Frederick  and  Jake. 
You  know,  don't  you,  Harry  ?  " 

97 


98  ELEANOR   LEE 

"  Well,  come  and  peep  out." 

They  counted  eight  grown  persons  and  five  chil 
dren,  who  crept  stealthily  forth  into  the  daylight,  and 
went  their  several  ways. 

"  Harry,  it  can't  be  possible  that  our  kitchen,  with 
the  two  little  rooms  above  it,  sheltered  that  crowd 
over  night." 

"We'll  watch  to-rnorrow  morning,  if  we're 
awake,"  said  Harry.  "They  may  come  again." 

They  did  watch  for  successive  mornings.  A  vary 
ing  number  of  black  people  left  the  premises  every 
day  in  the  early  light,  evidently  having  slept  there. 
They  stole  away  as  silent  as  shadows. 

When  Eleanor  questioned  Aunt  Polly  on  the 
matter  she  was  confronted  by  an  appearance  of 
offended  innocence,  little  short  of  majestic. 

"  Yo  shorely  is  dreamin',  Miss  Eleanor.  Not  one 
soul  eber  sleeps  here,  'cept  my  old  man,  de  chillun 
and  me." 

"I  tell  you,  Aunt  Polly,  I  saw  them.  I  was  not 
dreaming.  I  was  awake  and  dressing." 

"La,  honey,  you  done  get  up  too  soon,"  declared 
Aunt  Polly.  "  Dis  place  sure  is  haunted.  If  you  see 
anybody  you  done  see  ghosts  and  harnts,  and  if  it 
discontinues,  Aunt  Polly'll  light  out,  Miss  Eleanor. 
Couldn't  stay  in  no  place  wif  harnts." 

Eleanor  concluded  to  be  conveniently  blind  there 
after. 

Car'line,  the  second  maid,  was  Aunt  Polly's  niece. 
She  was  pretty  and  trim,  about  Eleanor's  build  and 
height,  with  graceful  bearing  and  correct  speech,  a 
well-trained  lady's  maid.  When  Eleanor  discovered 
that  Car'line  quite  often  surreptitiously  borrowed 


AUNT  POLLY'S  MORALS      99 

her  handkerchiefs  and  petticoats  to  wear  to  the 
colored  folk's  parties,  she  was  naturally  indignant 
and  as  any  Northern  mistress  would,  decided  that 
Car'line  should  be  dismissed  on  very  short  notice. 

"Please,  Miss  Eleanor,"  remonstrated  Aunt  Polly, 
"don't  send  pore  Car'line  away.  I'll  reason  with 
her,  and  she  won't  do  you  that  way  again.  I  know 
she's  done  behaved  shameful,  but  she's  like  a  child, 
Car'line  is,  and  I'll  see  that  she  never  touches  none  of 
your  clothes  any  more.  She'd  ought  to  know 
clothes  ain't  like  sugar  and  flour.  Any  lady'll  let  her 
servants  hab  what  dey  need  of  dem  things,  but 
Car'line's  most  extraordinary  bad,  she  is,  and  too 
triflin'." 

Aunt  Polly's  reasoning  with  her  niece  was  enforced 
by  a  vigorous  stamp  of  her  foot,  and  a  good  many 
threats. 

"You  pore  silly  no  account  triflin'  gal,  why  you 
do  Miss  Eleanor  so,  and  get  yo'self  found  out  ?  If 
you  do  any  such  fool-things  again,  I'll  tell  Sis  Clara 
and  Brer  Ezekiel  and  you'll  be  turned  out  ob  church. 
Den  where'll  you  be,  pore  sinner  ?  Hab  you  nebber 
heard  'bout  de  Jedgement  Day  when  de  books  are 
opened,  Car'line?" 

At  this  Car'line  was  properly  dismayed,  and  prom 
ised  to  mend  her  ways,  and  kept  her  word. 

"Please,  Aunt  Polly,  don't  you  tell  mammy,  nor 
Brer  'Zekel,"  she  entreated. 

"Den,  Car'line,  you  walk  straight,  and  doan't  you 
dare  do  Miss  Eleanor  dat  way  no  mo'.  What  yo' 
trouble  her  clothes  fo'  anyhow,  chile  ?" 

Car'line  laughed  and  tossed  her  head. 

"I  want  to  look  nice  when  I  go  to  a  party,"  she  said. 


ioo  ELEANOR   LEE 

Uncle  Bill  took  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth.  "When 
you  go  dance  with  Robert,  you  mean  ?  You  better 
let  Robert  Bruce  alone,  Car'line.  He's  too  old  foryo'. 
He'll  not  let  you  go  to  parties  any  mo'." 

"I'll  marry  Robert,"  she  said,  "and  then  nobody 
won't  ever  dare  to  trouble  me  no  mo'." 

She  did  marry  Robert  before  many  weeks,  a  man 
twice  her  age  but  much  admired  by  the  colored  elite 
of  the  place.  He  was  a  waiter  at  the  hotel,  making 
good  wages,  a  man  whose  manners  were  perfect, 
modelled  as  they  were,  on  those  of  the  elegant  peo 
ple  who  had  raised  him,  in  Amelia  County,  "  before 
the  war."  Car'line,  flighty,  silly,  coquettish,  unscru 
pulous,  became  Robert's  wife,  and  the  two  went  to 
housekeeping  in  a  little  cabin  near  enough  Eleanor's 
home,  to  permit  Car'line's  remaining  for  a  time 
in  her  service.  Even  after  a  roly-poly  dumpling 
of  a  chocolate-colored  baby  came,  Car'line,  not  very 
much  sobered,  continued  to  come  daily,  to  perform 
her  work  in  Eleanor's  home,  stealing  and  borrowing 
no  longer,  for  Robert  would  not  hear  of  it.  He  was 
thrifty  and  honorable,  and  exacted  good  behavior  of 
his  wife. 

One  day,  but  this  was  months  after,  she  came  in  a 
burst  of  tears  to  Eleanor,  all  her  bright  prettiness 
blotted,  her  eyes  swollen,  her  baby  boy  in  her  arms. 

"  Whatever  has  happened  ?"  exclaimed  Eleanor. 

"  Has  Robert  done  beat  you,  honey  ?  "  cried  Aunt 
Polly. 

"  Robert's  first  wife  has  come  back,"  said  Car'line. 
"He  allow  he  can't  tek  care  of  two  wives,  so  he's 
done  sent  me  out  of  the  house.  I  don't  mind  so 
much,  Miss  Eleanor,  but  I  don't  want  that  ole  field 


AUNT  POLLT'S  MORALS     101 

hand  to  use  all  my  things,  and  she  can't  hab  my 
baby  nohow." 

From  that  day,  Car'line  was  domiciled  with  her 
boy  in  Aunt  Polly's  kitchen.  Aunt  Polly  declared 
there  was  room  and  to  spare  for  both. 

Long  ago,  when  Robert  was  a  young  man,  he  had 
fallen  in  love  with  and  married  a  girl  in  a  neighbor 
ing  plantation.  They  had  been  properly  wedded, 
and  the  mistress  had  given  the  wedding  party  that 
was  so  much  prized  by  the  servants  on  a  great  estate. 
The  death  of  her  owner  had  been  followed  by  the 
sale  of  his  slaves,  and  Robert's  wife  had  been  sold 
to  Georgia.  She  went  away,  a  young,  slim,  pretty 
girl;  she  tramped  back,  when  the  war  was  over,  a 
footsore,  old,  weary,  homely  woman,  but  she  had 
not  forgotten  Robert. 

As  he  sat  by  his  fire  one  windy  night,  his  child  on 
his  knee,  Car'line  on  the  floor  at  his  feet,  the  door 
was  pushed  open,  and  without  a  word  of  preparation, 
Miranda  walked  in.  He  knew  her  on  the  instant,  as 
she  knew  him.  On  the  instant  he  made  his  choice. 

"Good-bye,  Car'line,"  he  said  rising.  "  Take  your 
child  and  go.  This  is  my  wife.  I'm  sorry,  Car'line, 
but  you  are  young  and  handsome.  You  can  find  an 
other  husband  soon.  Miranda's  old.  She  can't  ever 
find  anybody  but  me.  Marry  a  boy  next  time, 
Car'line.  Good-bye." 

From  that  hour,  Robert  was  all  devotion  to  Miranda, 
who  repaid  him  by  making  him  far  more  comforta 
ble  than  Car'line  had.  Her  fried  chicken  and  hominy 
were  much  better  than  Car'line's.  But  Robert  had 
something  chivalrous  in  him,  that  took  her  side. 
Notwithstanding  that  she  was  an  incomparable  cook, 


102  ELEANOR   LEE 

he  did  not  let  her  go  out  to  work.  He  worked  for 
her,  and  he  recommended  Car'line  as  a  wife  to  some 
one  else.  The  morality  of  the  negroes  in  those  early 
days  of  emancipation  was  a  nebulous  quantity. 
They  had  no  standards.  The  wonder  was  that  there 
was  honor,  purity,  or  goodness  among  them  at  all. 
To  play  fast  and  loose  with  marriage  they  thought 
no  crime. 

This  very  Robert  had  been  intrusted  with  a  large 
sum  of  money  to  carry  across  country,  when  the 
roads  were  infested  with  thieves,  and  violence  was 
common.  It  was  sent  by  his  young  master  dying 
away  from  home,  to  his  mother,  who  had  been 
Robert's  owner.  At  great  risk,  the  colored  man  had 
brought  the  package  safely  to  his  mistress,  and  had 
told  her  where  to  find  the  family  silver,  which  he 
had  himself  buried  in  one  of  the  fields  when  the 
armies  of  North  and  South  were  chasing  each  other 
across  the  old  home  pasture  lands. 

There  was  faithfulness  in  these  people,  to  an  ideal 
of  right  which  they  understood,  but  they  lacked  fine 
distinctions  and  had  most  confused  ideas  on  many 
points,  particularly  of  the  common  things  in  daily 
use. 

As  for  truth  they  seldom  had  the  faintest  notion  of 
its  importance,  they  said  whatever  came  handy  at  the 
moment  and  did  not  mind  a  scaffolding  of  lies  if  it 
served  their  purpose. 


XI 

KATHLEEN 

"  "W"  ~W"  OW  I  do  wish  there  had  been  eight  of  us 

I 1  instead  of  only  two!"  sighed  Kathleen, 

JL  •  throwing  herself  into  an  attitude  of  mock 
despair.  "  Mother,  it  is  the  greatest  mistake  to  have 
a  small  family!  I  shall  never  stop  missing  Eleanor." 

"  Yet,  dear,  you  have  your  friends  and  your  needle 
work  guild,  and  your  studies  and  music;  I  think  you 
have  interests  enough." 

Kathleen  was  a  modern  girl,  who  kept  up  her 
studies  of  art  and  literature,  in  classes  and  at  lectures, 
and  whose  charities  occupied  a  large  part  of  her  time. 
Her  mother  thought  her  an  extremely  busy  person. 

"  Mother,  darling,  nobody  whom  I  meet  is  like  my 
sister.  Does  it  not  strike  you  that  we  see  her  very 
seldom  ?  Why  is  she  so  determined  never  to  leave 
her  home?  When  I  have  a  husband,  he  shall  not 
monopolize  me,  as  Harry  does  Eleanor.  I'll  begin 
differently.  See  if  I  don't." 

Mrs.  Lee  smiled.  The  two  sisters,  absolutely  de 
voted  to  one  another  as  they  were,  had  a  good  deal 
of  unlikeness.  Kathleen's  point  of  view  and  Elea 
nor's  were  seldom  the  same. 

"I  don't  like  Nellie's  letters.  I  want  herself,"  in 
sisted  the  one  who  was  still  a  girl  at  home,  going  to 
the  piano  and  dashing  into  a  brilliant  sonata. 

She  wrote  to  Eleanor  almost  daily,  giving  the  gos- 
103 


104  ELEANOR  LEE 

sip  of  Islington,  and  the  little  home  items  that  were 
sure  to  be  welcome.  Eleanor  sent  her  in  return  long 
chatty  letters,  often  bright  and  always  entertaining, 
but  Kathleen  read  between  the  lines,  and  sometimes 
they  seemed  open  as  the  day  and  again  were  curi 
ously  impersonal  and  secretive.  Of  the  neighbors, 
Eleanor  had  a  great  deal  to  say  and  of  the  funny 
and  quaint  ways  of  the  colored  people,  but  she 
avoided  so  far  as  she  could  the  subject  of  her  home, 
and  Kathleen  was  quick  to  note  that  she  did  not 
very  often  allude  to  Harry. 

When  Eleanor's  birthday  came,  it  was  the  home 
custom  to  send  her  a  box,  containing  a  number  of 
gifts;  something  to  look  at,  a  picture  or  a  bit  of  china, 
something  to  eat,  bon-bons  and  a  fruit  cake,  something 
to  wear,  jewelry  or  lace,  something  to  read,  the  last 
new  book.  Ever  so  much  love  and  tender  thought 
went  into  Eleanor's  birthday  box,  and  Mrs.  Lee  spent 
weeks  in  getting  it  ready.  Kathleen  did  her  share, 
but,  after  her  visit  to  Eleanor,  it  was  impressed  on 
her  inner  consciousness,  that  they  must  send  money 
too.  Her  mother  debated  the  question.  Harry  might 
not  be  pleased.  It  might  be  considered  indelicate. 
Thanks  to  Donald  Waugh's  wise  care  of  their  finances 
the  Lees  were  now  in  easy  circumstances. 

"No,  mother,  dearest,"  said  Kathleen,  "a  timely 
gift  of  money  between  relatives  is  not  open  to  criti 
cism.  There  are  so  many  ways  to  use  money,  Elea 
nor  has  her  poor  people,  if  she  doesn't  need  it  her 
self — and — I  don't  believe  she'll  mention  it  to  Harry!  " 

"Kathleen!  You  surprise  me.  Why  a  wife  nat 
urally  tells  her  husband  every  single  thing." 

"  It    depends,   mother.     You    did.     I    may.     But 


KArHLEEN  105 

Nellie  doesn't.  I'm  not  easy  in  my  mind  about  her 
or  Harry  either." 

"  I  cannot  imagine  why.  But  I'll  send  the  child  a 
hundred  dollars.  I  wish  I'd  done  it  sooner.  I  can 
spare  it  as  well  as  not." 

Kathleen  was  about  to  explain  why,  but  pulled 
herself  up  in  time.  It  would  serve  no  good  purpose 
to  alarm  and  unsettle  the  little  mother.  But  oh! 
how  it  weighed  upon  Kathleen.  For  the  glory  of 
life  had  dawned  for  her,  and  she  was  even  at  the 
moment  hesitating  how  she  should  decide,  when, 
certain  words  she  could  not  longer  stave  off  having 
been  spoken,  she  must  say  yes  or  no  to  an  old,  old 
question  ever  new  in  the  history  of  man  and  woman. 

"I  would  rather  be  an  old  maid  than  a  disappointed 
wife,"  she  said,  as  she  put  on  her  dimity  gown,  and 
the  ribbon  that  Dick  Deland  thought  matched  her  eyes, 
and  went  down  to  the  drawing-room  to  receive  him. 

On  the  hall  table  lay  a  long  letter  from  Eleanor. 
Dick  pacing  up  and  down  waiting  for  his  sweetheart, 
little  thought  that  his  fate  was  wavering  in  the  bal 
ance,  as  Kathleen  slipped  into  the  library  to  read 
what  her  sister  had  written.  Fortunately  for  Dick, 
Eleanor  had  been  in  a  mood  of  hope  and  joy  when 
she  sent  that  letter.  Harry  had  been  so  long  his  own 
best  self,  that  her  fears  were  allayed.  He  had  won  a 
difficult  case,  and  taken  a  brief  for  a  railroad  in  an 
other  of  much  importance.  Not  in  a  long  while 
had  the  world  been  so  bright  and  home  so  cloudless 
for  Eleanor.  She  had  promised  too,  that  if  nothing 
happened,  she  would  make  a  visit  to  Islington  soon, 
and  stay  over  the  Waugh-Dunmore  wedding.  Kath 
leen  was  so  pleased  that  she  trod  on  air,  and  that 


io6  ELEANOR  LEE 

evening  Richard  Deland  left  her  with  her  promise 
that  she  would  marry  him. 

Kathleen  was  of  softer  fibre  than  Eleanor.  She 
could  not  have  lived  and  borne  what  Eleanor  had  en 
dured  in  silence  and  wifely  dignity;  she  must  have 
cried  out;  she  would  probably  have  died.  The  petted 
younger  daughter  had  less  stubborn  tenacity  to  bear 
and  suffer  than  had  Eleanor,  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
she  had  possibly  swifter  sympathy  and  readier  insight. 
But  she  had  as  yet  little  toleration  for  the  tempted  or 
the  tried,  having  no  experience  and  only  the  back 
ground  of  a  beautifully  happy  life  in  a  beautifully 
peaceful  home. 

"Dick!"  she  astonished  her  lover  by  saying  im 
pulsively  after  she  had  accepted  him.  "There  is 
something  1  forgot.  But  you  are  Islington  born,  so 
it  isn't  very  likely  that  you  have  any  bad  habits.  I 
want  to  know  that  you  do  not  drink  liquor,  any  sort, 
except  of  course  water,  and  tea  and  coffee  ?  " 

Dick  laughed  outright.  It  was  as  good  as  a  play, 
he  thought,  to  see  Kathleen's  solemn  face  and  hear 
her  ask  him  about  his  temperance  principles. 

"My  mother,  Miss  Kathleen  Lee,  is  President  of 
the  Islington  Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union, 
and  I  was  born  in  the  stronghold  of  total  abstinence." 

"  I  am  not  asking  about  your  mother,  Richard,  but 
about  your  own  self.  I  have  very  strong  convictions 
as  you  know  on  this  point." 

"Darling,  I  have  never  tasted  an  intoxicant  in  my 
life.  I  have  never  so  much  as  smoked  a  cigar.  I 
never  intend  to.  Does  this  satisfy  you  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  simply.     "  It  relieves  me." 

The  weather  was  cold  and  a  fire  of  soft  coal  glowed 


KATHLEEN  107 

in  the  grate,  the  flames  leaping  red  and  golden,  and 
hissing  with  a  homely  sibilant  sound  which  was  like 
"a  musical  accompaniment  to  the  low-toned  talk  of 
the  lovers. 

Richard  stood  up  straight  and  looked  down  at 
Kathleen,  who  sat  in  a  little  rocking-chair  that  she 
was  fond  of.  It  had  been  her  great-grandmother's 
chair  and  now  belonged  to  the  latest  namesake  of 
that  fair  dame,  a  Kathleen  Jenks,  who  in  her  day  had 
played  with  hearts,  but  whose  benignant  counte 
nance  among  the  family  portraits,  was  not  that  of  a 
coquette. 

"  I  would  as  soon  thrust  my  hand  into  that  bed  of 
coals,"  he  said,  "as  to  take  one  step  deliberately  on 
a  road  that  might  lead  to  the  loss  of  my  will-power. 
Might,  not  that  1  necessarily  think  it  would.  I  be 
lieve  I  have  a  good  deal  of  strength,  but  I  should 
never  dare  to  do  what  might  lead  a  weaker  brother  to 
offend.  Why,  Kathleen,  temperance  is  in  my  blood, 
in  my  training.  It's  queer,  your  making  a  point  of 
this.  Why  not  enjoin  me  not  to  be  a  thief?" 

"  I  have  seen  trouble  in  friends'  homes,  and  have 
suspected  it  where  I  did  not  see,  so  I  thought  I'd 
speak  now,"  answered  Kathleen. 

Could  they  have  penetrated  by  any  X-ray,  the  veil 
that  drops  between  us  and  those  a  little  way  off, 
could  they  have  gone  a  twelve  hours'  distance  by 
train,  they  might  have  had  a  demonstration  of  the 
misery  that  this  one  evil,  too  often  condoned,  too 
often  slurred  over  in  society,  can  bring  to  pass  in  a 
home.  A  commonplace  sin,  and  a  commonplace 
wreck  and  heartbreak.  God  pity  those  who  know 
it  from  within. 


io8  ELEANOR  LEE 

Cold  weather  had  sharpened  the  air  in  the  Virginian 
town,  and  the  last  of  the  flowers  that  had  lingered 
bravely  blooming,  even  after  some  touches  of  frost, 
lay  withered  on  the  ground.  Eleanor  had  pre 
pared  an  inviting  supper,  and  the  house  with  its 
shaded  lamps  was  as  attractive  as  wifely  taste  could 
make  it.  All  round  the  parlor  were  low  bookcases 
filled  with  volumes  old  and  new.  The  easy-chairs 
were  drawn  up  to  the  table,  and  the  very  look  of  the 
room  breathed  peace  and  rest.  Harry  was  late,  but 
Eleanor  was  used  to  this,  for  a  client  would  drop  in 
after  hours,  or  her  husband  be  detained.  She  felt  no 
solicitude.  For  the  first  time  in  months,  her  anxiety 
had  taken  flight,  the  edge  of  worry  was  dulled.  Just 
then  the  bolt  fell. 

She  heard  a  step  on  the  veranda,  surely  not 
Harry's,  a  step  that  shuffled  and  stumbled.  She 
heard  a  fumbling  at  the  latch-key.  She  sprang  and 
opened  the  door.  Muttering  and  grumbling  Harry 
entered,  and  as  he  put  out  one  hand  to  steady  him 
self,  he  sought  with  the  other  to  draw  his  wife 
to  him  for  their  evening  kiss.  She  withdrew  herself. 
At  that  instant  the  sickening  revulsion  of  feeling  was 
so  great  she  could  not  kiss  him.  He  turned  angrily 
away,  closed  the  door,  and  went  out  into  the  gather 
ing  storm. 

"  Harry!  "  she  called.     "  Harry! " 

But  there  was  no  answer. 

She  sent  Aunt  Polly's  Bill  out  to  follow  him  and 
bring  him  back,  but  Bill  returned  saying,  "  The 
night  done  swallow  him  up." 

So  again,  as  often  in  the  past,  Eleanor  sat  down  to 
a  lonely  supper.  Harry  stumbled  back  after  awhile, 


KATHLEEN  109 

the  worse  for  his  going,  He  wandered  about  the 
,garden,  and  sat  on  the  porch,  refusing  to  come  in. 
Eleanor  wrapped  her  cloak  around  her,  went  to  him, 
coaxed,  besought,  entreated,  and  at  last  succeeded  in 
getting  him  safe  behind  the  barricade  of  the  door. 
Once  more  she  was  grateful  that  their  home  stood 
alone,  encircled  by  a  wall,  and  that  darkness  in  its 
friendly  cover  could  hide  the  shame  of  their  lives 
from  view. 

At  midnight  she  sent  Bill  for  the  doctor.  Harry 
was  raving,  and  she  could  do  nothing  for  him.  In 
utter  agony  of  prayer,  she  threw  herself  at  the  foot 
of  her  bed,  and  called  upon  God  to  save.  It  is 
written  that  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  suffereth 
violence  and  the  violent  take  it  by  force.  In  her 
passion  of  supplication  that  night,  Eleanor  stormed 
heaven's  gate  and  would  not  rise,  till  she  had  an 
answer  of  peace. 

The  answer  came.  Long  after  the  doctor  had 
gone,  assuring  her  that  the  worst  was  over,  and  long 
after  Harry  slept,  Eleanor  continued  in  prayer.  Once 
she  stopped  all  words,  her  soul  lifted  up  its  call 
without  their  help.  Once,  in  the  middle  of  her 
prayer  to  God,  she  stopped,  and  put  out  her  hands 
with  a  child's  cry,  "Oh!  mother,  mother,  come  to 
me,  your  poor  little  girl."  She  wanted  the  human 
touch,  the  mother-love. 

But  suddenly,  an  arrest  came  upon  her  vehemence. 
As  if  a  soft  hand  had  been  laid  on  her,  she  was 
soothed,  as  if  a  voice  spoke,  she  was  satisfied. 

"Daughter,"  said  One,  who  still  speaks  as  never 
man  spake,  "thy  faith  hath  saved  thee.  Go  in 
peace." 


XII 

A  LETTER 

TO  receive  a  letter  from  Donald  Waugh,  and 
a  long  one,  was  an  incident  to  awaken 
wonder.  Eleanor's  letters  were  brought 
from  the  post-office  morning  and  evening.  As  she 
sat  alone  at  breakfast,  the  morning  after  her  tempest 
tossed  night,  the  mail  was  handed  her,  and  on 
top  was  an  envelope  addressed  in  Donald  Waugh's 
massive  script.  His  writing  was  like  his  character, 
bold,  aggressive,  foursquare.  In  her  girlhood,  Elea 
nor  had  often  had  notes  from  him,  and  occasionally 
since  her  marriage,  he  had  written  her  on  one  or 
another  theme.  The  present  letter  was  bulky  and 
long,  and  she  saw  that  there  had  been  in  his  mind 
some  good  reason  for  writing  it.  Donald  was  never 
gallant  nor  complimentary,  and,  in  this  hour  of 
her  helplessness,  she  thought  with  a  new  sense 
of  gratitude,  that  he  was  her  friend  for  all  time, 
a  friend  as  uncompromising  as  destiny,  and  as  stead 
fast  as  a  rock. 

"You  know,  Eleanor,"  he  began,  "  that  I  am  very 
soon  to  be  married.  You  know  me,  and  you  know 
Mattie,  so  that  I  may  speak  to  you  with  the  most  en 
tire  freedom.  I  love  Mattie  with  my  whole  heart.  I 
have  learned  to  reverence  her  goodness,  her  truth, 
her  perfect  honesty  and  nobleness.  She  is  incapable 
of  guile;  a  woman  fit  to  walk  beside  a  man  as 

no 


A  LETTER  ill 

his  equal  and  comrade,  and  to  raise  his  stand 
ards,  and  hold  him  to  the  best  that  is  possible  for 
him  to  be  and  do.  You  will,  I  am  sure,  give 
both  of  us  your  best  wishes,  and  I  am  writing 
this  to-day  because  I  want  you  and  your  husband 
to  come  to  my  wedding.  I  am  making  it  a  friend's 
request. 

"  1  am  not  a  man  of  intuitive  perceptions,  Eleanor, 
and  I  have  always  been  a  blunderer,  for  that  reason. 
Now  I  don't  want  to  blunder  in  what  I  am  saying  on 
this  occasion.  I  have  been  aware  of  some  things 
which  our  Islington  people  have  not  suspected,  and 
which  your  own  dear  mother  does  not  dream  that  I 
have  discovered.  Indeed,  God  bless  her,  she  does 
not  herself  dream  of  things  that  have  become  patent 
to  me.  Never  mind  how  1  have  found  out  what  you 
would  prefer  to  keep  concealed.  Since  the  day  your 
father  died  I  have  constituted  myself  your  guardian 
in  my  own  mind,  and  latterly  have  been  as  an  elder 
brother,  and  have  felt  that  you  and  Kathleen  had 
a  brother's  claim  on  me.  Whatever  success  I  have 
achieved  in  the  world  I  owe  largely  to  Judge  Lee, 
who  wielded  immense  influence  over  me  in  the 
formative  period  of  my  life.  He  was  as  a  father 
to  me  when  my  own  father  died.  Eleanor,  pardon 
me  if  I  am  officious  or  intrusive,  but  you  are  in  some 
trouble,  and  I  want  to  help  you.  '  The  Lord  tempers 
the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb.'" 

In  a  gleam  of  memory,  Eleanor,  as  she  read  this 
sentence,  saw  herself  and  Donald  standing,  one 
on  either  side  of  her  father  as  he  rested  in  his  last 
sleep.  She  recalled  the  impulsive,  hot-tempered  girl 
who  resented  the  comfort  offered  in  the  stiff,  pe- 


112  ELEANOR   LEE 

dantic  phrase,  stiff,  and  pedantic  not  so  much  in 
itself,  as  on  Donald's  lips.  Where  was  that  girl? 
Not  here.  Not  in  the  quiet,  controlled,  disciplined 
woman  who,  reading,  smiled  in  spite  of  herself,  and 
went  calmly  on  to  the  next  words. 

"Your  husband  is  an  able  lawyer,  a  brilliant,  effi 
cient  man,  handicapped  by  one  terrible  habit  which  is 
sure  to  increase  rather  than  to  abate  its  power  over 
him.  You  and  he  cannot  fight  this  thing  out  alone. 
There  is  still  a  fighting  chance  for  his  freedom.  I  am 
not  writing  in  the  dark,  Eleanor.  I  have  sought  and 
obtained  information.  Your  husband  must  be  saved. 
To  this  end,  he  must  leave  his  present  environment, 
leave  a  place  where  social  drinking  is  the  fashion, 
and  an  occasional  lapse  loses  no  man  caste:  must  be 
brought  somewhere  near  strong,  true  friends.  I 
think  your  Southern  experiment,  of  which  I  never 
approved,"  here  Eleanor  again  smiled — this  was 
characteristic,  indeed,  "should  come  to  an  end. 
Return  to  your  own  people,  and  your  own  town. 
Islington  is  growing.  It  will  soon  be  a  great  city.  I 
can  offer  inducements  to  your  husband,  legitimate 
business  inducements,  which  ought  to  decide  him  to 
drop  all  that  he  has  or  may  hereafter  have,  where  he 
is,  and  settle  here.  That  you  may  be  altogether  at 
ease,  I  will  state  that  not  another  soul  in  Islington, 
except  myself,  has  any  knowledge  of  anything 
prejudicial  to  Mr.  Osbourn.  As  a  valiant  officer  in 
the  Union  army,  who  made  a  good  record,  he  will  be 
welcomed  with  open  arms.  I  shall  presently  place 
my  proposition  before  him  in  the  appropriate  shape, 
and  I  count  on  you  to  persuade  him  to  accept  what  I 
offer,  in  the  spirit  in  which  the  offer  is  made.  Your 


A  LETTER  113 

father's  daughter  may  trust  me,  and  so  may  that 
daughter's  husband." 

With  a  few  more  expressions  of  earnest  desire  for 
the  welfare  of  Eleanor  and  Harry  the  letter  closed:  a 
letter  like  Donald  from  beginning  to  end.  Eleanor 
read  and  re-read  it;  went  to  her  desk  and  wrote  a 
short  reply,  sending  her  congratulations  on  the  ap 
proaching  marriage,  and  adding,  "  If  it  is  right  for  us 
to  return  to  Islington,  I  shall  be  only  too  happy  to 
turn  my  face  there.  I  wait  with  an  open  mind.  I 
think  my  husband  will  not  be  averse  to  persua 
sion." 

She  dropped  Donald's  letter  in  the  grate,  where  she 
had  a  handful  of  pine  knots  blazing.  And  for  once 
she  thought  with  grateful  affection  of  this  staunch 
friend  of  her  entire  life.  Here  was  a  true  man. 

But  it  was  not  in  this  way  that  God  meant  to  save 
Harry. 

A  woman  so  proud  as  Eleanor  is  instinctively  ret 
icent,  and  to  have  it  forced  upon  her  that  the  secret 
she  is  fain  to  hide,  is  discovered  by  any  mortal,  is  to 
fill  her  with  terror  lest  soon  it  may  be  bruited  from 
the  house-tops. 

Had  a  bird  of  the  air  carried  the  tidings?  How 
had  Donald  found  out?  Her  mind  went  over  the 
question  as  if  seeking  gropingly  for  a  clue  to  the 
answer,  but  none  came.  Was  there  ever  to  be  an 
end  to  the  wretchedness  which  had  shattered  her 
ideal  of  home  peace,  as  a  rough  wind  breaks  the 
branches  in  its  path  ?  Faith  grew  faint.  Hope  died 
within  her.  We  are  contradictory  beings  made  of 
opposing  qualities,  and  at  the  same  moment  in  which 
Eleanor  was  grateful  to  Donald  she  was  deeply 


H4  ELEANOR  LEE 

poignantly  and  rebelliously  regretful  that  she  had 
occasion  for  gratitude. 

Then  too  she  was  losing  hold  of  her  belief  in  her 
husband.  If  he  could  not  do  well  in  one  place,  why 
should  he  in  another  ?  She  felt  exhausted  in  the 
struggle,  as  she  sat  by  the  blazing  hearth. 

She  was  still  sitting  by  the  fire,  white  and  wan, 
when  the  doctor,  having  paid  his  morning  visit  to 
her  husband  above  stairs,  entered  the  room  and  took 
a  chair  beside  her. 

"I  must  prescribe  for  you,  Mrs.  Osbourn,"  he  said. 
"You  want  a  tonic." 

"I  suppose  I  need  something, "she  replied  wearily. 
"  I  feel  somehow  spent." 

"  What  you  really  need  more  than  anything  else  is 
a  change.  Can  you  not  run  off  a  few  days,  and  visit 
your  people  at  home  ?" 

"My  husband  cannot  go  at  present.  He  has  an 
important  case  on,  and  must  be  in  court  every  day  of 
the  next  fortnight.  Doctor,  will  he  be  well  enough 
to  be  in  court  to-morrow  ?  A  good  deal  depends 
upon  it." 

"Yes,  dear  lady,  I  think  so.  It  will  be  a  pull,  but 
the  necessity  will  give  him  nerve,  and  he  is  in  no 
danger  of  another  breakdown  at  the  moment.  You 
may  safely  leave  him  in  my  care." 

"  You  are  very  good,  doctor,  our  best  friend,  but 
my  mind  is  made  up.  I  will  never  leave  my  husband 
for  so  much  as  a  day  while  there  is  the  shadow  of  a 
reason  for  thinking  that  my  being  by  him  can  do 
him  any  good." 

The  doctor  rose  and  bowed  over  her  hand.  As  he 
did  so,  he  said  cheerily, 


A  LETTER  115 

"If  love  and  truth  and  wifely  faithfulness  count 
for  anything,  plus  medical  skill,  you  and  I  ought  to 
be  able  yet  to  extricate  a  splendid  fellow  from  the 
bog  in  which  he  is  stuck  fast,  more's  the  pity.  Rely 
upon  it,  madam,  I  will  stand  by  you  to  the  last 
ditch." 

But  this,  too,  was  not  God's  way  of  saving  Harry. 

When,  in  the  evening,  Harry  was  out  of  bed  and 
dressed,  and,  as  usual,  in  a  collapse,  depressed  and 
silent,  his  wife  put  aside  his  excuses  and  profuse 
regrets.  She  tried  to  talk  of  everything  except 
themselves. 

Presently  he  broke  out,  "Good  heavens,  Eleanor,  if 
you  were  to  give  me  up  altogether,  I  couldn't  blame 
you.  I  wonder  you  don't,  when  I  think  of  the  home 
I  took  you  from,  and  the  sweetness  of  its  life,  and 
realize  what  I've  plunged  you  into.  I  wonder  you 
don't  fly  from  me  as  if  I  were  the  plague.  Many 
women  would  abandon  such  a  wretch  as  I  am  with 
out  further  parley.  I'm  not  worth  your  little  finger, 
dear,  yet  you  stand  by  me  still.  I  could  kiss  the  hem 
of  your  garment,  but  if  you  left  me,  you  would  be 
within  your  rights." 

"Harry!"  exclaimed  Eleanor,  her  cheek  flushing, 
"I  never  wish  you  to  speak  in  this  way  again. 
Whatever  you  are,  whatever  you  do,  you  are  my 
husband.  You  and  I  are  one  in  God's  sight,  and  we 
cannot  be  separated.  I  shall  never  stop  loving  you, 
dear,  and  while  I  love  you,  I  shall  always  live  with 
you,  and  I  have  never  doubted  for  a  second  that  you 
love  me.  This  calamity  does  not  touch  my  love, 
though  it  breaks  my  heart." 

She  knelt  at  his  side,  and  looked  at  him   with 


n6  ELEANOR   LEE 

mournful  eyes.  The  man's  heart  was  aching,  too. 
He  lifted  her  gently  up  and  stood  by  her  side. 

"As  God  is  my  witness,  Eleanor,  there  must  be  a 
way  out.  I  vow  that  I  will  take  the  first  step  in  it, 
the  instant  He  makes  it  plain  to  me.  My  dear  wife, 
try  to  trust  me  this  time." 

Eleanor's  face  was  illumined  with  that  inner  light 
that  comes  from  unfaltering  faith  in  God. 

"We  will  trust  our  Father,"  she  said. 


XIII 
GOD'S  WAY 

DR.  ABBOTT  was  putting  on  overcoat  and 
gloves  to  go  on  his  rounds,  and  his  wife, 
who  hardly  reached  his  shoulder,  was  help 
ing  him.  By  her  intent  and  far-away  look,  the 
doctor  knew  she  was  not  thinking  of  him,  so  much 
as  of  something  in  her  mind,  and  as  he  knew  most 
of  her  thoughts  through  a  rare  sympathy,  born  of 
long  comradeship,  he  was  prepared  to  hear  her  say 
without  preface, 

"  Hervey,  I'm  going  to  make  a  call.  I  mean  to  have 
a  talk  with  that  poor  young  thing,  Mrs.  Henry 
Osbourn.  It  is  my  duty.  Not  one  of  us  has  really 
helped  her  in  her  great  trouble." 

"I've  tried,"  said  the  doctor  drily. 

"  Of  course,  and  you  are  a  great  and  constant  help. 
But  she  needs  sympathy,  and  I  must  give  it  her, 
tangible  sympathy,  dear." 

"  I'd  like  to  be  behind  the  door  when  you  try  it. 
You'll  not  succeed,  my  child.  Of  all  the  proud 
women  in  this  world  of  ours,  the  reserved,  the 
queenly,  that  little  woman  is  the  proudest,  the  most 
reticent,  the  queenliest.  She  won't  confide  in  you, 
and  she  won't  be  pitied.  I  must  be  off.  Don't  wait 
dinner  for  me,  I've  a  tremendously  long  round  before 
me." 

"Wait  one  minute,  dear.  I'm  going  there  this 
117 


n8  ELEANOR  LEE 

morning  with  a  purpose.  I  shall  invite  her  and  her 
husband  to  attend  our  revival  meetings,  and  to  begin 
to-night." 

Dr.  Abbott  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  long 
and  heartily. 

"You  blessed  old  saint!"  he  returned.  "They 
won't  go.  They  are  Presbyterians.  What  on  earth 
should  they  do  in  a  Methodist  meeting  ?  What  has 
come  over  you,  Emilie  ?  " 

"I  can't  explain  it,  Hervey,  but  I've  been  making 
those  two  neighbors  of  ours  the  subject  of  constant, 
urgent  prayer  for  the  last  month.  Sometimes  I  am 
so  moved  by  their  necessity  that  I  have  to  drop  my 
sewing  and  go  off  by  myself,  in  the  very  middle  of 
the  morning,  and  talk  with  God  about  them.  Now, 
you  and  I  believe,  and  it  is  our  comfort,  that  the 
Spirit  guides  our  intercessions.  I  know  my  prayer 
has  been  heard:  know  it,  mark  you."  She  paused, 
and  went  on  calmly,  "That  man  is  just  as  much 
saved  this  minute  as  you  and  I.  The  demon  is  to  be 
cast  out  of  him  completely.  Is  cast  out  this  very 
instant." 

"Temporarily,  yes.  But  only  to  return  with  far 
greater  violence.  Emilie  Abbott,  unless  the  Lord 
works  a  miracle,  Harry  Osbourn  must  go  down, 
must  end  in  the  grave  of  the  drunkard.  And  it 
won't  take  very  long.  If  it  were  not  for  a  here 
after,  I'd  not  be  sorry.  Then  his  wife  would  be 
released." 

"  Does  she  not  love  him  ?" 

"  Love  him  ?  I  should  think  so.  With  ali  her 
brave  heart.  What  good  does  that  do  ?  It  hasn't 
influenced  him." 


GOD'S  WAY  119 

"It  reflects  Christ's  love,  Hervey.  Now  you 
.watch.  The  Lord  does  work  miracles  yet,  can  work 
them  whenever  He  chooses.  We  are  so  foolish  to 
fancy  that  He  ever  stopped  working  them,  or  only 
did  them  in  Galilee  when  He  was  here  among  the 
disciples.  I  must  not  keep  you  standing  with  your 
coat  on." 

The  doctor  went.  The  day  was  raw,  but  there 
was  a  warm  glow  at  his  heart.  He  drove  from 
house  to  house:  everywhere  greeted  as  the  physician 
is  with  anxious  affection,  leaving  in  one  and  another 
sick  room  a  benediction;  giving  out  virtue  by  his 
very  presence  as  his  Master  did.  Somehow,  that 
Master  was  very  real  to  Hervey  Abbott  that  day. 

"That  wife  of  mine,"  he  mused,  "goes  through 
this  world  seeing  the  Christ  as  He  was  when  here  on 
earth.  Her  hand  is  never  out  of  His.  I  wonder  if 
she  isn't  in  the  right,  and  her  religion  a  vital  thing 
because  of  it?  She  dwells  in  such  sunshine,  bless 
her!" 

Eleanor  was  suffering  from  reaction.  Her  skies 
were  veiled.  "Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust 
in  Him,"  she  exclaimed,  but  her  buoyancy  was  gone. 
She  felt  like  an  exhausted  swimmer  buffeting  the 
waves,  and  clinging  at  last  with  loosening  hold  to 
the  rope  thrown  from  shore.  More  and  more,  she 
secluded  herself,  lived  in  her  home  and  her  garden, 
grateful  for  the  brick  wall  and  the  privacy.  She  was 
growing  thin  and  white,  and  her  eyes  were  large  in 
her  sorrowful  face.  For  Harry's  sake  she  tried  to  be 
cheerful,  and  with  her  whole  soul,  she  sought  to  re 
ceive  each  day  as  a  new  gift  from  God,  and  to  be 
delivered  from  fear  of  the  morrow.  But  life  was  not 


120  ELEANOR   LEE 

easy.  She  was  engaged  this  morning  in  something 
nearly  as  unprofitable  as  foreboding.  She  was  re 
viewing  the  dreary  past.  For  some  of  us,  the  best 
wisdom  is  expressed  in  concrete  form,  when  we 
press  on  "forgetting  the  things  which  are  behind." 
The  intervals  between  these  sporadic  outbreaks, 
which  swept  her  home  like  a  cyclone,  were  growing 
briefer.  As  she  reflected,  it  was  evident  to  her  that 
they  were  preceded  by  fewer  danger  signals.  To 
her  thought,  the  demon  pounced  upon  Harry,  as  a 
beast  springs  from  ambush,  and  Harry's  resistance 
was  growing  feebler.  She  was  getting  so  tired;  so 
tired  and  worn  out.  Between  the  attacks,  he  was 
the  courteous  gentleman.  Following  each  excess, 
when  it  was  past,  her  husband  suffered  agonies  of 
shame  and  remorse.  He  almost  grovelled  in  repent 
ance.  Over  and  over  he  begged  her  pardon.  Over 
and  over  called  himself  a  brute,  wished  himself  dead, 
and  out  of  her  way.  There  were  times  when  she 
feared  he  might  do  some  desperate  thing,  and  so  put 
knife  and  pistol  where  they  were  beyond  his  reach. 
Gradually  she  had  so  arranged  the  house  that  it 
looked  naked  to  her  eye,  though  truly  its  simplicity 
was  restful.  She  thought  it  resembled  a  schooner 
sailing  under  bare  poles,  for  she  had  prudently 
packed  away  the  breakable  ornaments.  There  had 
been  times  when  Harry's  mood  was  one  of  mischief, 
and  bric-a-brac,  china,  and  furniture  went  down  be 
fore  him  as  chaff  before  the  wind.  It  was  living  on 
the  crust  of  a  volcano,  this  continual  fretting  strain, 
and  she  was  tired,  tired.  She  longed  for  the  relief  of 
speech  to  some  one.  But  pride  still  forbade  speech, 
pride  and  indomitable  wifely  loyalty. 


GOD'S  WAY  121 

Thus  sitting   alone  in  her  morning  room,  with 

<.its  outlook  on  the  desolate  garden,  thinking  of  the 

past,  feeling  strength  gone,  the  door  opened  and 

without   announcement,   a   little  white-haired  lady 

came  in. 

"  I  wouldn't  let  Car'line  ask  if  you  would  see  me, 
dear.  I  walked  straight  in,"  she  said. 

"Mrs.  Abbott?" 

"  Yes,  dear,  Dr.  Abbott's  old  wife,  who  never 
makes  calls,  but  who  knows  you  very  well.  I  won't 
beat  about  the  bush,  my  child.  I  am  here  to  be  what 
1  can  to  you." 

Eleanor  drew  herself  up.  But  Mrs.  Abbott  took 
no  notice. 

"  You  know,  dear,  our  blessed  Lord  has  His 
messengers.  He  sent  Ananias  to  Paul,  you  remem 
ber  ?  Well,  child,  He's  sent  me  to  you.  1  want  you 
and  your  husband  to  do  me  a  favor.  Come  with  me 
this  evening  at  eight  o'clock  to  the  little  meeting  a 
few  of  us  who  love  the  Lord  will  hold  in  the  Green 
Street  Methodist  Church." 

Eleanor  looked  her  surprise.  This  was  most 
unconventional. 

"Dear  lady,"  she  answered  gently,  "  my  husband 
doesn't  go  to  prayer-meeting.  Not  even  in  our  own 
church.  I'm  sure  he  won't  be  persuaded." 

"You  ask  him,  dear." 

"  It  won't  be  worth  while." 

"You  ask  him,"  the  lady  repeated.  Her  sweet, 
old  face  was  wistful  and  resolved. 

Suddenly  Eleanor  melted.  She  was  at  the  point  of 
breaking.  She  had  repelled  sympathy  so  long,  that 
she  was  as  if  encased  in  iron,  but  there  was  a 


122  ELEANOR   LEE 

motherly  tenderness  in  Mrs.  Abbott  that  she  could 
not  withstand.  It  was  as  when  the  ice  melts  in 
spring,  the  thaw  swept  all  before  it. 

"You  know  about  us,  don't  you,  Mrs.  Abbott? 
You  know  what  ails  my  Harry?" 

"Yes,  dear  child,  I  know." 

"  Do  you  know  that  there  is  nothing  before  him 
but  to  grow  worse  and  worse,  and  weaker  and 
weaker,  till  he  dies,  that  we  are  losing  everything, 
that  character  and  reputation,  and  all  his  moral  sense, 
all  his  manhood,  must  go  down  in  this  wreck?  Oh, 
Mrs.  Abbott,  do  you  know  ?  " 

"My  child,  I  know.  And  I  know  another  thing. 
That  there  is  hope,  and  that  he  may  be  saved.  That 
there  are  glad  days  before  you,  yet." 

Mrs.  Abbott  spoke  with  a  tranquil  assurance  that 
was  balm  to  Eleanor's  heartache.  A  light  beamed  on 
her  darkness.  The  clouds  were  lifting.  But  she  only 
answered, 

"  Dr.  Abbott  does  not  think  so." 

"Never  mind  Dr.  Abbott.  Other  men  as  far  on 
the  rough  downhill  road  as  your  husband,  have  been 
saved,  and  yours  shall  be.  But  by  no  earthly  means. 
By  no  mere  human  hands.  If  your  husband  gives 
himself  to  Christ,  Christ  will  take  the  desire  away, 
as  well  as  reinforce  the  faltering  will.  Dear  child,  I 
know.  I  have  been  praying  for  you  both,  by  night 
and  day,  for  weeks  and  weeks.  I  am  sure  he  will 
rise  to  a  new  manhood." 

When  Harry  came  to  dinner,  Eleanor  rather  timidly 
preferred  her  request  that  he  would  go  with  her  that 
evening  to  the  Methodist  prayer-meeting.  She  half 
expected  a  refusal,  but  she  had  promised  Mrs.  Abbott 


GOD'S  WAY  123 

that  she  would  ask.  Harry  showed  neither  surprise 
nor  reluctance. 

"Why,  of  course,  dear,  if  you  wish  it,"  he  said. 
"They  are  having  great  meetings  there,  I  am  told." 
Then  reminiscently,  he  went  on,  "  You  never  knew 
it,  but  when  I  was  a  little  shaver,  my  Aunt  Phebe, 
who  was  a  very  good  woman,  the  salt  of  the  earth, 
used  to  take  me  with  her  to  revival  meetings,  and  I 
remember  the  singing.  We'll  go  early,  Eleanor,  and 
get  a  pew  near  the  front.  Then  we'll  see  the  people 
go  up  to  the  anxious  seat." 

"Oh!  Harry,  you'll  not  make  fun  of  anything,  will 
you  ?" 

"For  what  do  you  take  me,  Eleanor ?  The  reason 
I  said  that,  is  evident  enough.  The  interest  of  such 
a  meeting  culminates  in  the  personal  equation,  and 
we  may  as  well  see  the  thing  through.  Maybe  this 
is  the  first  step  we  spoke  of  last  night." 

In  this  spirit,  not  exactly  of  repentance  for  sin  or 
longing  for  a  better  life,  but  of  faint  curiosity  and 
acquiescence  and  fainter  hope,  Harry  set  out  that 
evening,  an  evening  which  proved  eventful  in  his 
experience,  beyond  anything  he  could  have  antici 
pated. 

They  were  a  trifle  late,  though  Eleanor  had  started 
in  season,  for  on  the  way,  an  acquaintance  had  hap 
pened  to  meet  them,  and  had  insisted  on  a  long  con 
versation,  while  standing  on  a  street  corner,  though 
Harry  tried  to  put  him  off  until  the  next  day. 

"I  couldn't  offend  him,  Eleanor,"  he  said  apolo 
getically,  as  the  man,  satisfied,  went  on  his  way. 
"My  practice  has  fallen  off  a  little,  and  he's  one  of 
my  best  clients." 


124  ELEANOR   LEE 

Being  late,  and  the  seats  in  the  back  of  the  room 
all  taken,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  walk 
through  the  aisle  to  the  front,  and  the  pair  were  in 
stalled  just  behind  the  foremost  row  of  pews.  No 
body  took  any  notice  of  them.  The  meeting  was 
not  on  that  plane.  It  had  gone  deeper  than  that. 

A  young  man  was  in  the  pulpit.  He  was  reading 
from  Colossians,  and  when  he  had  finished  he  made 
a  very  simple,  childlike  prayer.  Others  followed,  but 
there  was  nothing  whatever  that  was  dramatic  or 
sensational  or  out  of  the  common.  It  might  have 
been  styled  a  dull  prayer-meeting,  for  there  were 
spaces  of  waiting  silence  when  not  one  word  was 
said,  until,  perhaps,  somebody  started  a  hymn,  and  a 
verse  or  two  would  be  sung.  The  leader  spoke  sel 
dom,  and  Eleanor  grew  nervous  lest  her  husband 
should  be  bored,  and  wished  herself  away.  She 
stole  a  glance  at  his  face.  It  fascinated  her,  and  she 
looked  again.  Harry's  gaze  was  rapt,  but  it  was  not 
at  the  leader  he  was  looking.  His  face  was  impas 
sive;  his  eyes  were  on  something,  or  some  One  that 
Eleanor  could  not  see.  When  the  leader,  in  low, 
persuasive  tones,  spoke  of  pardon  for  the  erring,  of 
rehabilitation,  of  the  Holy  Ghost  filling  the  heart  and 
life,  and  then,  pausing,  requested  all  who  wished  the 
great  gift  of  peace  and  pardon  to  come  forward, 
kneel  down,  and  be  prayed  for,  to  Eleanor's  utter  as 
tonishment,  her  husband  rose,  left  her  side,  and  was 
first  to  bow  knee  and  head  at  the  mourner's  bench. 

Long  afterwards  Harry  told  Eleanor  of  the  conflict 
that  raged  within  him  that  night.  A  conflict  so 
stern,  so  implacable,  that  it  shook  his  very  soul  be 
neath  its  outward  calm.  In  one  instant,  he  had  a 


GOD 'S  WAY  125 

realizing  sense  of  his  wickedness,  and  of  the  impos- 
•  sibility  humanly  speaking  of  escaping  his  bondage. 
Then,  he  was  aware  of  two  forces  within  him,  each 
pulling,  straining;  the  devil  doing  his  utmost  to  keep 
his  prey,  the  Lord  redeeming  His  servant.  The  prayers 
of  the  good  mother  who  had  brought  him  up,  rose  in 
his  memory.  The  heart-break  of  the  wife  at  his  side, 
pierced  him  like  an  arrow.  He  saw  nothing,  heard 
nothing,  knew  nothing  of  what  was  going  on  about 
him,  until  there  penetrated  his  consciousness  the  in 
vitation  to  step  to  the  altar.  In  the  words  of  one, 
who,  many  years  ago,  after  a  course  of  wild  dissipa 
tion,  found  redemption  in  Christ's  grace,  this  man, 
at  that  moment,  gave  himself  up.  "Lord,  I  accept 
Thy  will;  damn  or  save!"  was  the  language  of  his 
heart.  From  that  evening  Harry  was  a  different 
man:  old  things  passed  away;  all  things  became 
new.  No  greater  change  occurred  to  Paul  of  Tarsus 
on  the  road  to  Damascus,  than  to  Harry  Osbourn  in 
the  Methodist  prayer-meeting  that  night  of  his  sud 
den  conversion.  He  turned  his  back  on  the  whole 
of  his  past,  and  began  over  again.  From  that  time, 
he  seldom  had,  during  a  long  life,  so  much  as  a  pass 
ing  inclination  to  taste  any  intoxicant.  From  that 
time,  he  was  almost  if  not  altogether  a  free  man. 

But  kneeling  there  he  had  not  knelt  alone.  Eleanor 
had  risen  and  followed  him;  at  the  supreme  moment 
when  he  gave  his  life  into  God's  hands,  to  be  broken 
or  mended,  as  God's  will  should  elect,  her  soft  warm 
hand  slipped  into  his,  and  the  touch  of  her  human 
love  was  mingled  with  the  divine  accolade. 

Let  no  one  say  that  this  was  an  impossible  conver 
sion.  It  was  not  even  unscientific.  More  than  one 


126  ELEANOR  LEE 

psychologist,  not  necessarily  a  Christian,  has  chron 
icled  the  fact  that  the  only  cure  for  dipsomania  is  re- 
ligiomania.  The  new  man  in  Christ  Jesus  loses  the 
old  sin  and  it  is  cast  behind  his  back.  We  limit  by 
our  small  ability,  the  measureless  power  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  and  dare  to  think  that  because  we  fail  misera 
bly  where  we  attempt  to  rescue  men,  the  great  God 
must  fail  too. 


XIV 
A  VANISHED  HOPE 

THAT  evening  was  the  turning-point  in  the 
married  life  of  the  Osbourns.  The  new 
peace  was  so  full,  so  dear,  that  little  by  little 
the  home  took  on  more  than  the  sacredness  it  had 
held  at  any  previous  time,  and  the  wife,  surrounded 
by  her  husband's  devotion  and  waited  upon  with  a 
tenderness  which  was  loverlike,  was  more  than 
happy,  she  was  blessed.  They  did  not  go  to  the 
wedding  of  the  Waughs,  though  when  the  cards 
came  they  planned  to  do  so,  but  there  were  difficul 
ties,  and  Eleanor  found  them  insurmountable.  For 
one  thing  there  came  an  unseasonable  storm,  that 
made  travelling  disagreeable  for  the  week  which 
would  have  seen  their  start,  and  besides,  as  Harry's 
engagements  kept  him  at  home  just  then,  his  wife 
would  not  go  alone.  She  felt  that  at  this  crisis  in  his 
life,  he  needed  her  companionship. 

Donald  submitted  his  business  proposal  to  Harry, 
but  the  latter  asked  for  time  to  consider  it.  He  wrote 
a  frank  letter  which  raised  him  immensely  in  Don 
ald's  estimation,  saying  that  he  did  not  wish  to  go 
from  his  present  environment  under  any  cloud  of 
suspicion,  any  defeat.  "When  I  have  more  firmly 
retrieved  my  position  here,  and  shown  that  I  can 
maintain  it,  then  I  may  be  willing  to  return  to  the 
North.  My  wife  feels  as  I  do,  that  for  the  present 

127 


128  ELEANOR  LEE 

my  place  is  in  this  town."  In  this  decision  Donald 
acquiesced. 

The  Pomfret  ladies  were  busy  over  a  new  kind  of 
sewing.  Eleanor  had  persuaded  them  some  time 
ago,  to  change  the  everlasting  worsted  work  for  little 
garments  which  were  needed  in  hospitals  and  or 
phanages,  and  had  even  induced  them  to  buy  a  sew 
ing  machine.  Mrs.  Moore  saw  that  machine  enter 
their  door,  with  the  feeling  that  the  world  was 
tumbling  about  her  ears. 

"  Hattie  Moore,  that  little  Mrs.  Osbourn  has 
wrought  a  perfect  revolution.  1  never  saw  so  won 
derful  a  thing.  The  Pomfret  girls  may  emerge  from 
their  prison  yet!  A  sewing  machine  in  that  house. 
It  might  as  well  have  been  in  the  ark! " 

"Poor  old  things!"  said  Hattie,  who  was  sweet 
and  twenty,  and  thought  the  Pomfrets  antediluvian 
indeed. 

With  delicate  reticence,  and  shy  blushes,  as  if 
they  were  intruding  on  a  mystery,  unfit  for  virginal 
ken,  Miss  Dora  and  Miss  Clemmie,  in  the  privacy  of 
their  rooms,  began  to  sew  for  Eleanor.  Their  mother 
bought  the  linen  sheer  as  silk  and  the  dainty  lace  and 
embroidery,  and  brought  home  to  them  muslin  and 
lawn,  like  cobwebs  for  fineness,  and  the  two  gentle 
old  maids  set  to  work  on  a  layette.  That  coming 
baby  of  Eleanor's  should  have  an  outfit  that  a  queen's 
child  might  wear.  All  the  women  concerned  about 
it  concurred  in  this  and  besides  what  the  mother  her 
self  was  preparing,  Mrs.  Lee  with  the  tender  pride  of 
one  who  had  long  wanted  to  be  a  grandmother  was 
getting  ready  her  contribution  for  the  new  nursery. 
Never  was  a  more  exquisite  basket  arranged  for  any 


A  VANISHED  HOPE        129 

little  stranger  in  a  palace  than  that  which  Mrs.  Lee 
-brooded  over  in  Islington.  Somehow  it  made  her 
young  again  as  she  anticipated  seeing  the  second 
generation,  and  she  lived  over  the  sacred  brooding 
days  of  her  own  hopefulness,  before  her  first-born 
came,  the  dearest  and  most  hallowed  days  ever 
vouchsafed  to  woman.  Mrs.  Lee  had  no  anxiety, 
only  joy  as  she  thought  of  Eleanor's  coming  ordeal. 

As  for  Eleanor,  herself,  the  time  passed  in  a  dream 
of  bliss.  She  was  radiant,  so  rich  seemed  life  in  the 
glory  of  her  unfolding  maternity.  Her  beauty  was 
increasing  daily.  She  was  more  captivating,  Harry 
thought,  than  she  had  been  as  a  girl,  and  he  was 
right.  A  woman  is  never  so  regal,  never  so  dowered 
with  an  ineffable  and  exquisite  loveliness,  as  when 
she  awaits  the  hour  of  sacrifice,  which  shall  crown 
'  her  being  with  life's  highest  honor. 

Aunt  Polly  shook  her  head  over  Eleanor's  high 
spirits.  To  Bill  she  remarked,  privately, 

"  Dat  chile  too  scrumptious!  Time  she's  had  ten, 
like  me,  she  won't  be  so  set  up." 

But  little  did  Eleanor  care  what  anybody  thought, 
she  was  simply  openly  and  deliciously  happy  and 
could  hardly  wait  for  the  day  to  arrive  when  she 
should  clasp  her  baby  in  her  arms. 

The  Pomfrets  were  of  Aunt  Polly's  mind,  but  they 
loved  her  so,  that  not  even  to  each  other  did  they 
breathe  the  opinion,  that  until  an  infant  is  actually  in 
the  world  in  his  proper  visible  person,  it  is  hardly 
modest  to  allude  to  him  even  remotely.  Eleanor 
upset  their  ideas,  but  they  attributed  it  compassion 
ately  to  her  Northern  education  and  went  on  loving 
her. 


130  ELEANOR  LEE 

Winter,  the  short  winter  of  the  South,  drifted 
away,  and  the  white  English  violets  were  fragrant  in 
the  gardens,  where  the  jonquils  and  daffodils  were 
hurrying  into  bloom. 

Eleanor  revelled  in  the  sweetness  of  the  spring. 
She  thought  no  spring  had  ever  worn  so  bright  a 
look,  and  she  spent  hours  of  each  day  out  of  doors. 

Singing  one  morning  a  little  Scotch  air  that  Harry 
was  fond  of,  she  came  down  the  veranda  meaning  to 
gather  a  bunch  of  daffodils.  A  great  bee  flew  past 
her  intent  on  some  errand,  his  hum,  chiming  in  with 
her  song.  Flying  things  however  harmless  were 
terrors  to  Eleanor,  and  she  stepped  hastily  forward 
to  avoid  the  bee,  stumbled  on  the  lowest  step,  and 
recovered  herself  swiftly  with  a  hand  that  clutched  at 
the  rail.  She  felt  a  jar,  but  apprehended  no  peril. 

Yet  three  days  later,  Dr.  Abbott  was  hurriedly 
summoned,  the  nurse  was  sent  for,  and  hour  after 
hour,  in  the  extremity  of  human  anguish,  the  battle 
between  life  and  death  was  fought  in  that  household. 

"  I  must  have  some  one  else  here,"  said  the  doctor. 
"Send  for  Mrs.  Moore."  The  nearest  friend  was 
this  Southern  neighbor  then. 

She  came,  calm,  efficient,  untroubled.  The  battle 
still  raged.  Eleanor's  strength  was  ebbing.  In  those 
days,  anesthetics  were  not  often  given  to  soothe 
birth-pangs,  but  Dr.  Abbott  sent  for  another  phy 
sician,  and  chloroform  was  administered. 

The  baby  was  born  at  last,  the  dear,  hoped-for, 
first-born  son.  He  was  only  a  little  waxen  image  of 
surpassing  workmanship.  He  never  so  much  as 
breathed.  His  tiny  hands  were  clenched.  He  looked 
as  if  he  had  fought  for  his  life,  and  given  it  up  re- 


A  VANISHED  HOPE        131 

luctantly.  Such  a  peerless  baby,  the  disappointment 
was  too  heart-rending. 

The  Pomfrets  knew  nothing  of  the  event,  till  some 
hours  after  the  doctors  had  gone  and  the  spent  mother 
was  resting  quietly,  utterly  wearied  and  looking  like 
a  broken  lily  as  she  lay  on  her  bed. 

Harry  crossed  the  road  and  unlatched  their  gate. 
It  was  the  first  time  in  more  than  a  score  of  years 
that  a  man's  voice  had  been  heard  at  their  door.  He 
asked  for  Mrs.  Pomfret.  When  she  came  he  said,  in 
a  shaking  voice, 

"  Our  little  son  was  born  this  morning,  and  was 
dead.  Eleanor  would  like  you  to  know." 

He  turned  and  went  gropingly  back.  A  man's 
grief  at  so  great  a  sorrow  and  loss,  when  first  his 
pride  of  fatherhood  awakes,  is  a  terrible  thing. 
Harry  shut  himself  up  in  his  den,  and  sobbed  in 
agony.  Not  since  his  mother's  death  had  the  man 
broken  down  and  cried  like  a  child.  When  he  came 
forth,  at  last,  a  baptism  of  resignation  had  christened 
him  for  a  higher  manhood. 

So  that  was  a  lonesome  spring.  Mrs.  Lee  and 
Kathleen  came  after  awhile,  and  brought  a  whiff  of 
Islington,  and  Harry,  loyally  putting  himself  in  the 
background,  did  everything  to  make  Eleanor  forget 
her  grief.  For  grief  it  was.  She  was  not  swift 
in  regaining  her  poise,  and  the  doctor  advised  a 
change  of  air  and  scene.  She  was  still  resolute 
in  her  determination  not  to  leave  her  husband,  and 
he  could  not  go  until  the  summer,  so,  at  last,  she 
made  a  brave  effort  to  be  bright  and  cheery  once 
more.  Kathleen  sent  for  Dick  Deland,  and  he  was  so 
merry  and  full  of  fun,  that,  in  spite  of  herself,  Elea- 


132  ELEANOR   LEE 

nor  returned  to  something  of  her  old  gaiety.  The 
house  was  filled  with  young  people,  evening  after 
evening,  and  they  had  cheery  times. 

"I  believe,  mother,"  said  Eleanor  one  day,  "that 
Miss  Dora  and  Miss  Clemmie  look  over  at  us  with 
longing.  Do  you  suppose  it  would  be  possible  to 
coax  them  to  come  to  Kathleen's  birthday  party?" 

"  I  fear  they  won't  dare  to  do  so,  but  you  might 
invite  them." 

"Their  mother  does  come  here,  but  she  has  never 
shut  herself  up  as  they  have." 

"It  would  be  a  fine  thing  for  them  if  they  could 
break  their  bonds,  Nellie.  Why  don't  you  try  your 
powers  of  persuasion  ?" 

"I  will." 

The  next  moment  she  was  on  her  way.  Her 
mother  watched  her,  as,  dressed  in  white,  she  moved 
across  the  garden,  turning  at  the  gate  to  wave  her 
hand. 

"If  any  one  can  resist  my  Eleanor,  as  she  is  in 
these  days,  that  person  has  a  heart  of  adamant," 
thought  the  partial  mother. 

"  It  isn't  fair." 

"  What  isn't  fair,  Kathleen  ?  " 

"That  anybody  should  keep  on  growing  more 
and  more  irresistible.  Eleanor  not  only  does  not 
fade,  she  is  more  charming  than  she  used  to  be. 
And  look  at  me!" 

Kathleen's  piquant  face  was  sadly  freckled  and  un 
becomingly  heated,  and  she  had  drenched  her  ging 
ham  gown  and  given  herself  a  generally  tumbled  ap 
pearance,  due  to  a  vigorous  row  on  the  river,  and  a 
splashing  from  the  waves,  that  need  not  have  hap- 


A  VANISHED  HOPE        133 

pened,  had  she  quietly  sat  still,  when  Dick  availed 
himself  of  what  seemed  a  good  chance  to  give  her  a 
rather  bearish  hug. 

"  Go  and  make  yourself  tidy,  dear.  There  is  noth 
ing  the  matter  with  you." 

"Nothing,  dear  Mrs.  Lee,  except  that  she  won't 
let  herself  be  kissed.  You  can't  approve  of  that.  I 
wish  you  would  scold  her." 

"You  are  two  very  foolish  children,"  said  Mrs. 
Lee,  smiling.  "  Here's  Eleanor  returning.  I  wonder 
has  she  succeeded." 

Eleanor's  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  her  eyes  were 
shining.  She  actually  hurried,  a  rare  thing  for  her. 

"Oh,  mother  dear,  mother  dear,"  she  called, 
"they  have  said  yes.  They  will  both  come  to  the 
party  to-night." 

Mrs.  Lee  glanced  at  the  rooms  and  concluded  that 
they  were  in  need  of  several  housewifely  touches. 
She  enjoyed  arranging  a  home  for  guests:  it  had  al 
ways  been  her  greatest  delight  to  entertain,  and  now 
she  sent  Eleanor  to  her  chamber  for  a  long  rest, 
while  she  did  those  last  things  which  every  woman 
likes  to  do  before  company  comes.  Her  own  heart 
ache  was  hardly  less  than  her  daughter's  that  those 
baby-garments  were  all  laid  away  in  lavender.  Un 
like  Eleanor,  who  felt  as  if  this  disappointment  were 
final,  she  still  hoped  that  some  other  day  might  dawn 
and  bring  the  coveted  gift  from  God. 

Meanwhile  she  was  as  excited  as  the  Pomfrets 
themselves  over  their  brave  step  forward  into 
society.  It  was  a  plunge  indeed. 


XV 

UNEXPECTED  GUESTS 

WHEN,  very  timidly  and  with  a  fluttering  re 
luctance  that  almost  made  them  withdraw 
from  their  promise,  Dora  and  Clemmie 
Pomfret  began  to  dress  for  the  party,  their  first  dis 
mayed  thought  was  that  they  had  nothing  to  wear. 
A  party  requires  something  festive,  and  they  had 
dressed  in  black  alpaca  for  winter,  and  white  muslin 
for  summer,  with  no  special  reference  to  the  fashion, 
during  the  revolving  seasons  of  many,  many  years. 

"Mamma,"  said  Clemmie,  who,  though  the 
younger  sister  always  took  the  lead,  "you  will  have 
to  go  over  to  Mrs.  Osbourn's  and  make  our  excuses 
and  apologies.  We  were  very  weak  to  yield  to  that 
honeyed  tongue  of  hers.  What  will  people  say  ?" 

Unexpectedly  old  Mrs.  Pomfret  plucked  up  spirit 
to  reply, 

"  It  is  you  who  are  weak,  Clementina.  The 
guests  neither  know  you  nor  your  history,  so  they 
will  say  nothing  at  all.  Why  should  they  ?  " 

Dora,  who  could  be  obstinate  when  she  made  up 
her  mind,  declared  that  she  was  going,  anyway, 
having  promised. 

"  Though  of  course  we'll  be  wall-flowers.  We 
were  not  always  wall-flowers,  Clemmie." 

The  old  mother  sighed.  Mothers  are  very  keen  of 
sight,  and  she  perceived  only  too  plainly  that  these 

'34 


UNEXPECTED  GUESTS      135 

withered  daughters  of  hers,  in  a  dessicated  middle 
•age,  were  really  specimens  of  girlhood  arrested.  It 
hurt  her.  She  was  sorry  that  Eleanor  had  not  let 
them  alone,  yet  she  said  nothing.  If  they  could 
only  now  begin  a  simple  and  wholesome  life,  it 
would  be  such  an  advance  on  the  entombed  life 
they  had  been  contented  with  so  long.  Though  she 
had  never  approved  of  it,  she  had  been  powerless  to 
modify  it  in  any  particular. 

"Mother,  what  shall  we  wear?"  Clementina  in 
quired  as  if  she  had  been  fifteen  instead  of  forty- 
two. 

"We'll  take  a  look  in  the  old  cedar  chest,"  said 
the  mother,  and  gleefully,  the  three,  she  who  had  a 
girl's  heart  under  her  seventy  winters,  and  the  two 
who  had  never  been  anything  but  girls,  climbed  to 
the  old  Pomfret  garret,  and  dragged  out  the  cedar 
chest.  Rich  garments  were  here,  a  silver-gray  bro 
cade,  a  lilac  silk,  a  shimmering  black  satin,  with  old 
yellow  laces,  and  sashes,  broad  and  glimmering,  in 
changeful  lustre.  The  mother  had  often  aired  and 
unfolded  these  elegant  robes  in  the  years  of  their 
disuse,  but  the  younger  women  had  never  once 
looked  on  them  since  they  had  laid  them  aside. 
Curiously  childlike  was  their  pleasure  as  they  carried 
the  elegant  dresses  down-stairs,  and  laid  them  out 
for  the  evening.  All  day  they  wandered  up  and 
down,  unable  to  settle  to  anything,  watching  and 
waiting  for  the  evening  as  if  they  were  debutantes. 

"You  see,  mother,"  said  Clemmie,  as  in  the  sum 
mer  dusk,  she  stood  before  the  looking  glass  to  have 
the  silvery  brocade  hooked  up  in  the  back,  "  as  we 
have  made  a  new  departure,  we  will  not  return  to 


136  ELEANOR   LEE 

our  old  ways.  I  shall  go  to  market  to-morrow,  and 
both  of  us  will  go  to  church  next  Sunday." 

The  mother  smiled.  Yet  something  tugged  at  her 
heart.  For  the  sake  of  their  brother,  her  only  son, 
who  had  fled  none  knew  where,  after  a  stain  had 
fallen  upon  a  hitherto  unspotted  name,  these  sisters 
had  hidden  themselves  for  almost  a  lifetime.  Where 
was  the  boy  ?  She  had  been  aware  for  a  decade  that 
Dora  and  Clementina  seldom  thought  of  him ;  his  name 
was  never  mentioned.  In  her  prayers  it  had  never 
been  forgotten.  It  was  queer,  and  unreasonable, 
and  foolish,  but  it  was  like  a  mother,  that  a  strange 
jealousy  should  stir  in  her  thought,  as  she  watched 
the  two  old-young  sisters,  in  their  pleased  excite 
ment,  dressing  for  little  Kathleen  Lee's  birthday 
party. 

"I  think  I  won't  go,"  she  suddenly  announced. 

Both  sisters  turned  on  her  most  pleading  counte 
nances. 

"Then  we  can't,"  said  Dora  disappointed. 

"Oh,  mother,  please  go!"  urged  Clementina. 

And  Mrs.  Pomfret  put  on  her  black  satin,  piled  her 
soft  white  hair  in  a  pompadour  roll,  and  like  an 
elderly  hen  with  a  brood  of  two  flustered  chicks, 
finally  went  to  her  neighbor's.  Once  there,  the  three 
were  welcomed  and  made  much  of,  yet  with  true 
courtesy  no  one  behaved  as  if  the  ladies  had  not  at 
tended  every  party  in  every  month  in  every  year  of  a 
score.  They  had  a  beautiful  time,  and  danced,  at 
last,  in  the  Virginia  Reel.  Going  home,  Clemenlina 
squeezed  Dora's  arm. 

"  I  do  hope  it  wasn't  wicked,"  she  said. 

"Wicked?    Absurd." 


UNEXPECTED  GUESTS      137 

"  Maybe  we've  been  wicked  all  this  time  feeling  so 
ashamed  of  poor  Max." 

The  other  sister  shuddered.  It  was  so  long  since 
she  had  thought  of  Maxwell  Pomfret.  Almost  there 
seemed  something  sinister  in  mentioning  his  name, 
something  of  ill-omen. 

They  crept  silently  into  their  own  rooms,  and  went 
to  bed.  That  night  old  Mrs.  Pomfret  lay  long  awake. 
Very  early  in  the  morning  she  was  roused  by  a  hand 
ful  of  earth  thrown  against  the  pane.  She  rose  from 
her  bed,  stepped  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 
Her  room  was  on  the  first  floor.  Somebody  was 
standing  there.  She  did  not  recognize  him,  a  gray- 
haired  man  respectably  clad,  but  unshaven  and  un 
kempt.  She  looked  again  and  opened  the  window 
holding  out  her  arms,  a  light  of  love  on  her  wrinkled 
old  face,  her  eyes  shining.  The  man  sprang  to  her. 

"Oh,  Max,  my  boy!  my  boy!"  she  exclaimed. 

•"  Mother,  you  don't  tell  me  to  go  away  again!  " 

"  For  twenty  years  I  have  been  praying  you  might 
come  home.  There  was  never  any  need  for  you 
to  go.  Everything  was  made  right  for  you,  Maxwell. 
If  you  could  but  have  trusted  your  mother,  my  boy, 
oh!  my  dear  boy!  " 

The  man's  rough  head  was  lying  against  her 
breast. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  she  said.  No  answer 
came. 

"Why  have  you  let  me  suffer  so  ?  Why  did  you 
never  write  ?" 

"Mother,"  he  said,  "I  meant  you  all  to  think  me 
dead.  I've  been  dead  to  you.  I've  been  mining. 
I've  been  going  to  and  fro  in  the  earth.  I've  brought 


138  ELEANOR   LEE 

back  more  than  I  took  away.  I  grew  homesick. 
Virginia  pulled  me  back.  Mother,  I  fought  in  the 
army  four  years.  I  was  Alec  Hayes  there,  but  the 
bullet  wasn't  made  that  would  kill  me,  and  here  I  am, 
your  prodigal  returned." 

The  day  was  fast  growing  bright.  Mrs.  Pomfret 
heard  her  daughters  stirring.  She  laughed  like  a  girl, 
the  old  rippling  laugh  of  Mary  Hayes. 

"Max,"  she  said,  "I  do  hope  Dora  and  Clemmie 
will  bear  the  shock  of  seeing  you  without  fainting 
away." 

About  the  same  time  a  carriage  drew  up  at  the  gate 
before  Harry  Osbourn's  house.  The  travellers  in  it, 
who  had  arrived  by  the  morning  steamer,  looked  at 
each  other  like  a  pair  of  conspirators. 

"  Mattie,  after  all  would  we  not  better  tell  the  man 
to  turn  and  drive  to  the  hotel  ?" 

"Donald  Waugh,  when  were  you  so  timorous? 
I  told  you  I  meant  to  give  Eleanor  a  surprise.  Let 
me  have  my  way,  please.  I  think  it  fun  to  steal  a 
march  on  the  Osbourns  this  way,  when  they  wouldn't 
come  to  our  wedding.  I'm  going  to  have  my  way, 
and  persuade  them  to  go  off  with  us  on  our  trip." 

"  You  are  rapidly  acquiring  a  habit  of  sovereignty, 
Mrs.  Waugh,"  said  Donald.  "I  find  it  most  useless 
to  oppose  you.  Do  you  suppose  anybody  in  the 
house  is  up?" 

"Somebody's  making  beaten  biscuit." 

"  Is  that  pounding  a  sign  of  bread-making  ?" 

"Yes,  you  old  dear.  And  there's  Eleanor  on  the 
veranda.  She  was  always  an  early  riser." 

Thus  unexpected  guests  came  on  the  same  day  to 
two  adjacent  homes  and  though  their  arrival  together 


UNEXPECTED  GUESTS      139 

was  accidental,  yet  it  had  something  unforeseen  and 
providential  about  it,  and  the  meaning  of  it  was  dis 
covered  in  a  future  day.  I  like  to  think  there  are 
no  accidents,  that  in  the  apparent  tangles  of  our  life, 
the  hand  of  the  great  Weaver  is  smoothing  out 
everything,  and  that  all  occurs,  even  the  least  of  the 
curiously  shifting  incidents,  according  to  His  plan. 
Herein  is  the  greatest  comfort  and  the  greatest 
strength. 


A  MAN  IN  THE  HOUSE 

WHAT  woeful  work  would  be  wrought  in 
many  a  household,  if  the  idolized  dead 
could  come  back !  Mourn  as  we  may  for 
our  nearest  and  dearest,  once  the  waves  have  closed 
over  them,  they  may  not  return.  We  fondly  think 
that  in  any  sweet  morning,  in  any  heavenly  twilight, 
if  they  should  slip  softly  in  and  take  the  vacant  chair 
by  the  hearth,  our  hearts  would  bound  with  joy  and 
thankfulness.  Yet,  when  we  see,  as  sometimes  we 
do,  the  unexpected  return  of  one  who  has  been  long 
away,  so  long  that  the  grooves  of  routine  have  worn 
to  smoothness  in  his  absence,  we  are  aware  of  a  jar 
if  not  of  a  shock.  The  years  are  forever  silently 
changing  us,  not  in  the  outward  semblance  only,  but 
in  the  soul-stuff  behind  it,  and  no  one  is  gone  twenty 
years  or  more  without  coming  back  a  different  being 
in  essentials,  and  finding  everybody  else  a  good  deal 
altered.  Of  only  one,  among  the  multitudinous 
relationships  of  life,  is  this'untrue.  The  heart  of  the 
mother  knows  no  change.  Her  boy  is  her  own  in 
his  middle  age,  or  to  gray  hairs,  as  fully  and  pas 
sionately  hers  as  in  his  babyhood.  She  may  be 
clear-sighted  and  may  discern  his  faults  and  limita 
tions,  but  she  does  not  care,  nor  is  her  love  lessened. 
To  the  Pomfret  sisters,  their  brother  came  as  a  per 
fect  stranger,  and  his  return  upset  them  terribly. 

140 


A  MAN  IN  THE  HOUSE    141 

The  fact  of  it,  and  the  circumstance  that  accompanied 
*  the  fact,  were  all  equally  disconcerting.  How  they 
hated  the  sight  of  him  loafing  about  the  garden,  and 
how  they  loathed  the  scent  of  his  pipe.  They 
struggled  to  be  kind  and  sisterly  and  he  plainly  saw 
through  their  attempt. 

A  drop  of  coward's  blood  in  a  man's  veins  is  a  ter 
rible  misfortune. 

In  his  clever  and  genial  youth,  Max  Pomfret  had 
been  hail  fellow  well  met  with  high  and  low;  he  had 
taken  rank  with  the  foremost  in  college,  and  at  home 
had  been  the  model  son  and  brother.  The  over 
rigid  training  of  an  austere  father  had  helped,  irf 
early  childhood,  to  accentuate  the  boy's  innate 
timidity,  and  when  youth  came,  and  evil  communicav 
tions,  taking  the  shape  of  a  set  of  reckless  con> 
panions,  had  corrupted  him,  fear  was  the  lion  in  his 
path.  When  the  crash  came,  and  he  was  accused  of 
forgery,  Max  ran  away  and  stayed  away,  visions  of  a 
convict's  cell  looming  large  before  him.  The  proud, 
severe  father  was  dead.  His  mother  and  sisters 
nearly  died  of  what  they  thought  the  family  dis 
grace.  They  forgot  that  nobody  can  be  disgraced 
except  by  his  own  act,  and  that  a  family  name  can 
never  be  trailed  in  the  dust  by  the  sin  of  a  single 
individual.  The  mother  grieved  less  over  the  dis 
grace  than  did  her  girls.  She  wept  and  wearied 
for  her  wandering  boy,  and  on  many  a  stormy  night 
she  did  not  sleep  for  thinking  of  him  off  somewhere 
in  the  cold  world,  in  suffering  or  want.  Latterly  she 
had  ceased  to  think  of  him  as  living.  Could  Max 
be  alive  and  make  no  sign  ?  Alive,  and  not  let  her 
know  ? 


142  ELEANOR  LEE 

Dora  and  Clemmie  met  him  with  a  sort  of  fright 
ened  appeal,  a  very  mixed  gladness.  He  seemed 
like  a  tramp.  Not  a  thing  about  him  recalled  the 
brother  who  had  gone.  The  new  Max  was  coarser, 
rougher,  different  and  older,  so  much  older  than  their 
brother,  and  having  knocked  about,  for  half  a  life 
time,  in  queer  places,  he  had  grown  queer.  He  did 
not  fit  into  this  cloistered  home,  as  hushed  as  a  con 
vent,  fragrant  with  potpourri,  and  all  hung  about 
with  woman's  needlework.  Neither  sister  breathed 
it  to  the  other,  but  each  realized  that  the  house  was 
not  half  so  pleasant  with  Max  in  it  as  with  Max 
away.  Clementina  shut  herself  up  to  think  it  over, 
and  Dora  went  out  under  the  crepe  myrtle  tree  and 
cried.  One  good  thing  his  coming,  just  at  the  mo 
ment,  did.  It  confirmed  them  in  their  resolution  to 
mix  with  the  world  once  more. 

"When  Sunday  comes,  Clementina,  we'll  need 
bonnets;  how  are  we  to  get  them  ?  " 

Dora  presented  this  practical  question  with  an  air 
of  distress. 

"  Send  to  Miss  Reno's  for  them,  I  suppose." 

"Mother  says  Miss  Reno  gave  up  business  ten 
years  ago." 

"Well,  ask  Kathleen  Lee  to  stop  at  whatever  mil 
liner's  there  is  and  send  us  some  bonnets  home  on 
approval.  That's  easy.  I  hope  Max  won't  go  to 
church  the  first  Sunday." 

It  turned  out  that  Max  did  not  go  for  many  Sun 
days.  The  coward  drop  of  blood  still  asserted  its 
dominion,  and  the  returned  wanderer  kept  out  of 
sight.  He  pottered  around  the  house  and  garden, 
loitered  about  wherever  his  mother  happened  to  be, 


A  MAN  IN  THE  HOUSE    143 

and  smoked  innumerable  pipes  of  tobacco,  so  that 
the  perfume  of  the  potpourri  was  quite  lost  in  that 
of  the  weed.  Air  the  house  as  they  would,  it  was 
pervaded  by  stale  tobacco.  It  did  not  seem  like  their 
house. 

Miss  Clementina  and  Miss  Dora  more  and  more 
hated  their  brother's  pipe.  Their  brother  baffled 
them.  He  said  the  most  shocking  things,  scoffed  at 
Plutarch,  made  open  fun  of  their  silly  worsted  work, 
talked  loudly,  as  he  shuffled  about,  and,  most  vexing 
of  all,  was  late  at  breakfast.  Five  times  as  much 
cooking  had  to  be  done  as  ever  before,  Max  expect 
ing  three  meals  a  day,  and  bringing  a  good  appetite 
to  every  one.  Money  was  plenty  with  him.  The 
girls,  as  they  still  styled  themselves  in  thought,  had 
fears  that  it  had  not  been  honestly  come  by,  but  not 
for  worlds  would  they  have  ventured  to  tell  their 
mother  this  traitorous  thought. 

One  unspoken  hope  was  in  both  their  minds,  that 
Maxwell's  stay  would  be  merely  transient. 

He  was  supremely  unconcerned  about  their  wishes 
in  the  matter.  As  a  brother,  Max  was  a  failure,  per 
haps  because  inevitably,  the  attitude  of  the  brother 
(or  sister)  who  stays  at  home,  is  that  of  the  elder 
brother  to  the  prodigal  in  the  parable,  a  little  jealous, 
a  little  hostile,  a  good  deal  reproachful.  The  parental 
heart  only  can  invest  the  prodigal  with  the  best  robe, 
and  put  the  ring  on  his  finger,  and  the  shoes  on  his 
feet. 

Yet  Max  was  not  all  bad.  And  there  were  those 
who  liked  him. 

"  Hello,  old  fellow,  can  this  be  you?" 

The  cordial  voice  was   that  of  Donald  Waugh, 


144  ELEANOR  LEE 

who,  with  the  ladies  had  come  over  to  call  on  the 
Pomfrets.  Max  generally  slouched  out  of  the  draw 
ing-room  before  visitors  entered,  but  he  had  not 
heard  the  approach  of  these  people.  He  now  ad 
vanced  unabashed. 

"  It  is  I  indeed,  Mr.  Waugh.  I  am  glad  to  see 
you." 

"  And  how  do  you  happen  to  be  here  ?  " 

"This  is  my  home,  my  mother's  home.  You 
know  1  am  a  Virginian." 

"I  cannot  tell  you  how  good  it  is  to  find  you 
where  I  can  talk  over  that  last  invention  for  finishing 
cloth,"  said  Donald;  "you  went  off  so  abruptly,  I 
lost  track  of  you.  Now  you  will  come  to  Islington, 
man,  and  stay  there,  where  you  are  wanted.  I'll  see 
to  that." 

Eleanor  observed  Donald  with  increasing  amaze 
ment.  His  amiability  had  so  come  to  the  front  since 
his  marriage,  he  was  so  friendly,  so  expansive,  the 
change  was  an  occasion  of  perplexing  conjecture. 
What  had  caused  it?  The  answer  was  apparently 
Mattie,  for  the  stiff,  obstinate  man,  was  so  far  as 
one  could  see,  most  pliable  in  her  hands.  Eleanor 
did  not  realize  that  Mattie  was  already  a  proficient 
in  the  fine  art  of  managing  a  husband  without  his 
suspecting  the  process.  Mr.  Waugh  was  genuinely 
pleased  to  see  Max  Pomfret,  who  had  spent  six 
months  at  Waugh's  Mills  only  a  year  before  this 
time.  It  is  truly  a  little  bit  of  a  world,  this  of  ours. 

The  Waughs  were  having  a  very  pleasant  visit. 
Mrs.  Lee  supplied  the  motherly  element  in  the  house 
party  and  Kathleen  and  Dick,  as  the  pair  of  lovers, 
furnished  the  flavor  of  sentiment.  Donald  unfoldfed 


A  MAN  IN  THE  HOUSE    145 

to  Harry  his  plans  which  required  a  lieutenant  with 
legal  knowledge  adequately  to  carry  out,  and  insisted 
that  a  migration  to  Islington  would  be  the  best  possi 
ble  step  for  all  concerned.  He  made  an  offer  that 
Harry  could  not  afford  to  decline.  Mrs.  Lee  and 
Kathleen  were  beside  themselves  with  delight  when 
Harry  provisionally  accepted  it. 

"  I'll  have  my  Eleanor  back,"  said  Kathleen  dancing 
around  the  room  like  a  child  whose  cup  was  full.  In 
the  end  Dick  Deland  went  home,  Mrs.  Lee  and  Kath 
leen  followed,  and  Eleanor  and  her  husband  set  out 
for  a  trip  with  Donald  and  Mattie  Waugh. 

Max  Pomfret  and  his  mother,  who  had  not  been 
outside  of  Virginia  since  she  was  a  girl,  took  train 
and  boat  to  Islington,  where  Mrs.  Pomfret  stayed 
awhile  with  her  boy,  until  the  fragrance  of  rose- 
leaves  came  back  to  the  home  whence  Miss  Clemmie 
and  Miss  Dora  at  last  banished  the  odor  of  a  pipe. 
The  house  cleaning  they  did  would  have  satisfied  a 
housekeeper  with  a  New  England  conscience. 

To  reconcile  the  old  Max  and  the  new  was  a  task 
beyond  the  sisters.  Mr.  Waugh,  who  knew  nothing 
of  the  man's  past,  trusted  and  liked  him  as  an  inventor 
and  a  man  with  ideas,  a  man  to  cultivate  and  keep  at 
hand.  The  truth  was  that  so  far  as  remorse  and  re 
gret  could  atone,  he  had  paid  the  debt  of  his  young 
manhood,  but  not  until  he  felt  sure  that  those  who 
knew  him  then  had  passed  away,  could  he  bring 
himself  to  step  again  in  the  streets  of  his  old  home. 
And  since  his  youth,  he  had  undergone  a  good  deal 
of  positive  suffering,  in  the  years  of  the  war,  when 
fighting  for  the  lost  cause.  The  peculiar  thing  that 
Eleanor  from  so  much  as  admitting  Max  Pomfret 


146  ELEANOR    LEE 

then  or  ever  to  her  liking  was  that  he  seemed  so  de 
livered  from  comprehension,  that  he  took  so  slight 
account  of  what  his  mother  had  endured  of  anguish 
and  suspense.  To  his  mind  this  suffering  of  hers 
was  apparently  not  existent.  A  few  facile  words  of 
penitence  and  he  was  satisfied  that  all  was  right,  yet 
the  mother  kept  loving,  trusting,  almost  adoring  him 
still.  Max  was  an  odd  compound  of  sagacity  and 
stolidity,  and  Eleanor  did  not  care  for  him. 

Before  the  house  party  broke  up,  one  summer 
morning  when  strawberries  were  ripe,  she  was  walk 
ing  by  herself  on  a  country  road.  Acres  of  straw 
berries  filled  the  air  with  lush  sweetness.  Hundreds 
of  pickers  bent  to  their  task,  filling  the  boxes  and 
crates  that  were  going  to  the  Northern  markets. 
Overhead  the  skies  were  blue  with  the  ineffable 
depth  of  June,  when  "  heaven  tries  the  earth  if  it  be 
in  tune,  and  softly  above  it  her  warm  ear  lays." 

She  walked  on  alone.  She  had  felt  a  craving  to  go 
off  in  solitude,  away  from  every  one,  to  think  whether 
or  not  she  could  willingly  forsake  this  Southern  home 
that  had  grown  so  dear.  She  was  not  quite  sure  that 
it  was  wise  or  best.  Musing  she  sauntered  on.  She 
was  inaudibly  lifting  a  prayer  that  there  might  be  no 
mistake. 

Behind  her,  soundless  on  the  sandy  road,  came  a 
phaeton  drawn  by  a  pony,  a  lady  driving.  She  called 
to  Eleanor,  as  she  passed,  then  stopped. 

"  Have  you  heard,"  she  said,  "  that  Charles  Dickens 
is  dead?" 

The  brightness  of  the  day  was  dimmed  for  Eleanor. 
The  sky  was  opaque  for  a  second  or  two.  Dickens 
dead!  The  tidings  brought  an  intense  and  thrilling 


A  MAN  IN  THE  HOUSE     147 

sense  of  personal  bereavement.  It  saddened  two 
-continents  and  eclipsed  the  light  of  the  English- 
speaking  world,  and  Eleanor's  stunned  reception  of 
it  was  repeated  in  ten  thousand  hearts. 

For  in  that  day  every  one  quoted  Dickens,  his  peo 
ple  moved  and  walked  before  one's  eyes.  Susan 
Nipper,  Bella  Wilfer,  Mrs.  Boffin,  David  Copperfield, 
Uriah  Heep,  and  all  the  rest  in  his  marvellous  portrait 
gallery  enriched  the  wealth  of  the  world.  Our  talk 
was  crisp  with  phrases  which  he  had  given  us  to 
be  current  coin  wherever  men  and  women  met  and 
conversed.  His  vogue  has  passed,  but  it  was  a  good 
and  pleasant  vogue  while  it  lasted,  and  his  work  will 
always  belong  to  literature.  Though  out  of  fashion 
now,  it  will  never  cease  to  be  a  standard,  and  reading 
people  must  continue  to  love  it. 

Eleanor  was  glad  she  had  heard  the  master  read 
"Boots  at  the  Holly  Tree  Inn"  in  New  York,  that 
she  had  once  touched  his  hand  in  greeting,  and  she 
was  sorry  through  and  through  that  Dickens  was 
dead.  She  went  home  saddened,  for  one  who  had 
been  a  great  inspiration  in  her  life  had  left  the  earth, 
and  put  on  the  garments  of  immortality.  To  divert 
her  mood  she  began  packing  in  earnest,  and  later 
went  forth  to  find  good  homes  for  her  colored 
people. 


xyn 

AN  EVENING  CALL 

WHEN  the  Osbourns  were,  after  an  interval 
of  some  weeks  spent  in  travelling,  finally 
settled  in  Islington  they  found  themselves 
in  a  North  of  new  conditions  and  thriving  activity. 
Islington,  as  Donald  Waugh  had  predicted,  having 
awakened  from  a  long  Rip  Van  Winkle  sleep,  had 
made  immense  progress,  and  was  rapidly  pushing 
out  from  a  small  village  to  a  great  city,  streets  run 
ning  out  in  every  direction,  and  mills  and  factories 
multiplying  in  the  business  district. 

They  went  from  the  train  to  their  own  home.  The 
furniture  and  books  had  been  sent  from  the  South  on 
their  departure,  and  it  had  been  to  Mrs.  Lee  and 
Kathleen  a  labor  of  love  to  arrange  everything  taste 
fully  in  the  house  Mr.  Waugh  had  selected  for  their 
occupancy.  This  was  not  far  from  his  own,  in  the 
newest  and  finest  portion  of  the  town,  and  no  pains 
had  been  spared  to  fit  it  with  whatever  improvements 
then  existed,  and  to  make  it  convenient  and  charm 
ing.  Max  Pomfret  worked  like  a  Trojan  in  unpack 
ing  and  arranging,  proving  himself  most  efficient,  and 
his  mother  who  was  beginning  to  feel  the  pangs  of 
homesickness,  forgot  them  and  consented  to  stay 
awhile  longer,  that  she  might  see  her  friends  in  their 
new  nest,  before  she  returned  to  the  South.  Clem- 
mie  and  Dora  were  writing  appealing  letters  every 

148 


AN  EVENING  CALL         149 

week,  urging  her  return,  and  she  was  tugged  at  in 
*two  directions,  disliking  to  leave  Max,  who  did  not 
need  her,  and  yet  seemed  to,  and  longing  at  the  same 
time  to  go  to  his  sisters  who  confessed  a  very  definite 
need. 

Eleanor  thought  Mrs.  Pomfret  had  failed.  She 
looked  older,  shrunken,  and  tremulous,  poor  lady; 
the  excitements  of  the  past  year  had  told  upon  her 
strength.  Between  seventy  and  eighty  years,  there 
is  little  margin  left  on  which  to  draw. 

In  the  first  month  or  two,  Eleanor  was  supremely 
contented.  Old  friends  called.  New  acquaintances 
left  cards.  Everybody  who  had  gone  to  school  with 
her  was  glad  to  see  her  again,  and  her  husband  was 
included  in  her  welcome.  The  atmosphere,  stim 
ulating  and  electric,  was  to  her  as  a  quickening 
breath.  She  was  eager  to  throw  herself  into  the 
current  of  affairs,  to  work  among  the  mill  people,  to 
do  good  somewhere  to  somebody.  Her  mother  ob 
served  that  she  was  again  the  vivid,  emphatic,  earnest 
being  she  had  known  at  nineteen.  It  was  as  if  the 
Eleanor  of  the  last  decade  had  slipped  away,  and  the 
former  Eleanor  had  come  back  to  her  old  place. 

A  Woman's  Club  was  just  forming  amid  much 
opposition  and  many  good-humored  jeers.  In  those 
days,  people  were  very  doubtful  about  women's 
clubs.  The  great  work  done  by  women  in  the 
Sanitary  and  Christian  Commissions  had  developed 
them  in  administrative  capacities,  and  shown  them 
what  they  could  do,  in  carrying  forward  large  enter 
prises.  To  many  a  woman,  fossilized  by  the  routine 
of  unbroken  domesticity,  the  outside  interests,  into 
which  her  love  of  country  and  care  for  the  soldier 


150  ELEANOR  LEE 

had  forced  her,  had  proved  a  renovation  and  re 
freshment.  Women  were  reluctant  to  sink  again 
into  the  monotony  of  continual  housekeeping,  varied 
only  by  a  little  church  work;  they  felt  that  they 
wanted  something  beyond  the  "common  task,"  that 
hitherto  had  furnished  "all  they  ought  to  ask."  Of 
this  recognized  need  and  felt  want,  was  born  the 
Woman's  Club,  an  important  movement  which  has 
brightened  and  blessed  the  womanhood  of  America 
for  at  least  one  generation,  and  is  at  present  steadily 
forging  ahead  to  the  upbuilding  of  home  interests 
everywhere. 

Eleanor  threw  her  influence  on  the  side  of  the  club, 
and  was  one  of  the  charter  members  of  the  "  Fort 
nightly,"  which  organization  was  to  devote  its  ener 
gies  to  literature  and  music,  with  philanthropy  as  a 
side  issue.  Mrs.  Lee  held  back,  because  she  belonged 
to  the  old  order,  and  was  a  natural  conservative,  and 
Kathleen  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  affair,  for 
the  excellent  reason  that  Dick  Deland  made  fun  of  it. 

Eleanor  was  not  indifferent  to  the  attitude  of  her 
family,  but  she  felt  sure  that  time  would  change  it. 
When,  however,  one  evening,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Waugh 
called,  their  criticism  aroused  her  defiance. 

"I  am  amazed,"  said  Donald,  addressing  Harry, 
"that  you  permit  your  wife  to  make  herself  con 
spicuous  in  this  absurd  and  mannish  eccentricity  of 
the  advanced  female.  I  think  you  should  make  a 
firm  stand  against  it." 

Harry,  no  more  than  any  other  husband,  enjoyed 
this  tone.  He  replied  stiffly, 

"  Eleanor  does  as  she  chooses.  I  do  not  assume  to 
control  her  actions  or  infringe  her  liberty." 


AN  EVENING  CALL         151 

Eleanor,  with  lips  tightly  closed  and  flushing  cheek, 
'was  restrained  from  a  hot  reply,  because  in  her  own 
home,  as  a  lady,  she  could  be  rude  to  nobody.  But 
she  was  inwardly  boiling  over.  Donald  Waugh 
was  Donald  Waugh  yet,  as  bigoted,  domineering, 
narrow,  and  self-satisfied  as  ever.  Mattie,  observ 
ing  danger  signals,  put  in  her  tactful  word. 

"  My  husband  really  means  that  you  ought  to  per 
suade  Eleanor  against  drifting  into  a  false  position. 
At  least,  dear,"  she  said,  turning  to  Mrs.  Osbourn, 
"you  might  be  less  in  evidence.  This  '  Fortnightly 
Club '  is  in  the  experimental  stage.  If  it  is  going  to 
lead  women  to  neglect  their  families,  send  husbands 
out  to  seek  entertainment  away  from  home,  and 
generally  work  havoc  in  domestic  relations,  you  don't 
want  to  take  the  initiative  in  such  an  enterprise." 

Donald  gazed  on  Mattie  with  admiration.  Trucu 
lent  himself  to  the  last  degree,  he  appreciated  his 
wife  most  when  she  was  most  smoothly  didactic. 
His  big  hands,  which  Eleanor  at  the  moment  remem 
bered  she  had  always  abhorred,  were  complacently 
folded  across  his  ample  white  waistcoat. 

"Quite  right,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "You  have 
stated  the  case  with  the  utmost  lucidity.  1  am  sure 
Eleanor  will  see  that  it  is  her  duty  to  withdraw  from 
the  association." 

"  I  was  on  the  contrary,"  said  Eleanor,  "  counting 
on  Mattie  to  be  a  very  useful  member  of  the  club. 
Had  you  not  happened  in  to-night,  I  should  have 
called  on  her  to-morrow,  expressly  to  give  her  an 
opportunity  to  join  us.  It  is  a  pity  that  anything 
which  is  bound  to  be  very  influential  in  Islington, 
should  lack  the  countenance  of  Mrs.  Waugh." 


152  ELEANOR  LEE 

"  Even  had  Donald  approved,"  said  Mattie  sweetly, 
"  I  could  not  have  gained  my  own  consent  to  enter 
anything  so  revolutionary.  And,  as  he  certainly 
would  forbid  it,  if  I  wished  it  ever  so  much,  you  see, 
Eleanor,  that  you  musi  DUL  ^..^ct  anything  from  me." 

Mattie's  air  indicated  that  Donald's  will  was  her 
law.  Her  sovereign  beamed  upon  her  benignly. 
Into  his  heart  floated,  like  a  strain  of  music,  the 
whole  of  Solomon's  description  of  the  woman  whose 
price  is  above  rubies.  "  She  will  do  him  good  and 
not  evil,  all  the  days  of  her  life,"  he  thought  happily 
as  he  escorted  his  wife  homeward;  joyfully  aware 
that  he  had  escaped  the  lifelong  grind  it  would  have 
been,  to  have  so  volatile,  headstrong  and  insufferably 
determined-on-her-own-way  mate,  as  Eleanor  Lee. 
When  the  Waugh  house  was  closed  for  the  night, 
Donald  sought  Mattie,  who  was  in  her  dressing- 
room,  sitting  beside  a  handful  of  fire  on  the  hearth. 

"My  darling,"  he  said,  "my  pearl  of  discretion, 
how  providential  it  is  that  I  was  the  fortunate  fellow 
to  secure  you,  most  loving,  most  obedient  of  women 
and  wives.  Are  you  ever  sorry  you  married  me,  ever 
sorry  you  promised  to  obey  ?  " 

"Never,  Donald,  dearest,"  and  the  plump  little 
comrade  of  his  days  looked  smilingly  into  his  face. 
She  slipped  her  soft  hand  into  his.  The  big  fist 
closed  over  it,  as  if  it  had  been  a  baby's.  He  gathered 
her  into  his  arms,  and  sat  blissfully  content  by  the 
smouldering  roseate  ashes  of  a  driftwood  fire. 

"Donald,"  said  Mattie,  "about  refurnishing  the 
drawing-room,  if  you  still  object,  I  will  not  press  the 
matter.  The  present  furniture  is  really  very  nice,  and 
as  you  said,  very  serviceable  and  strong." 


AN  EVENING  CALL        153 

A  week  before  they  had  discussed  the  matter  with 
some  vehemence.  Though  Donald  was  royally  rich, 
he  had  a  near  streak,  and  it  cropped  up  in  unex 
pected  places.  Thus  while  in  some  directions,  as 
the  horses,  the  garden,  the  grounds,  he  was  lavish, 
in  others  he  was  parsimonious,  and  Mattie  had  learned 
to  trim  her  sails  to  meet  and  sometimes  to  evade 
the  reefs  and  shoals  of  his  caprice.  In  the  matter  of 
maid-servants,  he  was  miserly,  and  though  Mattie 
had  begged  for  a  butler,  she  had  hitherto  begged  in 
vain. 

His  mood  to-night  was  most  indulgent.  Smooth 
ing  the  fair  brown  hair,  gazing  into  the  calm  blue 
eyes  that  held  no  storms,  observing  the  exquisite 
neatness  of  the  home,  where  Mattie  gave  him  such 
worshipful  attendance,  he  wondered  that  he  had  ever 
denied  her  anything. 

"My  love,"  he  said,  "I  am  so  gratified  at  the 
womanly  good  sense  you  have  shown  in  the  matter 
of  this  most  opprobrious  club,  that  I  cannot  praise 
you  sufficiently.  Furnish  the  drawing-room  over,  as 
soon  as  you  please.  I  give  you  carte  blanche.  Of 
course  1  should  not  have  held  out  against  you  at  all, 
had  I  fancied  you  cared  much  about  the  thing.  And, 
by  the  by,  Loomis  told  me  this  morning  that  he  can 
procure  us  an  admirable  English  butler,  so  if  you 
want  him,  you  shall  have  him." 

"  Oh,  Donald  !  how  good  you  are,  how  generous. 
Can  we  afford  this  ?  " 

He  drew  himself  up  offended  for  the  instant. 

"  Afford  it,  my  child  ?  What  are  you  thinking  of  ? 
We  can  afford  what  we  choose.  I'll  buy  you  those 
pearls  you  have  been  wanting  so  long,  if  you  will 


154  ELEANOR  LEE 

drive  down  town  with  me  to-morrow.  '  Beauty 
should  go  beautifully,'  my  love." 

Mattie  smiled  a  little  as  she  let  down  her  long  hair 
and  brushed  it  before  retiring.  Her  unspoken  reflec 
tion  was  that  a  woman  could  do  what  she  chose 
with  her  husband  if  only  she  understood  him.  She 
felt  no  little  pride  that  she  could  wind  this  big,  obsti 
nate,  raw-boned  Donald  of  hers  around  her  little  fin 
ger.  As  for  the  Woman's  Club,  what  did  she  care  for 
it  ?  To  meet  her  townswomen  twice  a  month,  to 
write  papers  on  subjects  that  implied  hard  work  and 
research,  to  study  parliamentary  law,  and  conduct 
debates,  all  these  seemed  to  mean  superfluous  toil  to 
Mattie  Waugh,  who  was  easy  going,  ordinary,  and 
honestly  affectionate  and  fond  of  her  home  and  hus 
band.  Donald  enjoyed  being  obeyed.  She  enjoyed 
obeying  him  when  his  mind  and  hers  were  on  the 
same  tack.  When  she  differed  with  him  she  bided 
her  time,  and  brought  him  around  to  her  way  of 
thinking,  and  he  never  suspected  the  process.  How 
stubbornly  he  had  scoffed  at  her  desire  for  a  correct 
butler,  and  yet  here  he  was  installing  one.  Mattie 
was  entirely  willing  that  he  should  assume  the  glory 
of  having-  introduced  this  new  element  into  their 
housekeeping,  few  families  in  Islington,  as  yet  pos 
sessing  a  man-servant,  for  indoor  work. 

She  lay  awake,  a  long  time  that  night,  her  even 
pulses  beating  faster  than  their  wont  with  triumph, 
and  her  last  thought  was  of  thankfulness  that  she 
had  so  good  a  husband. 

"  Dear  Donald!  "  she  whispered  as  she  fell  asleep. 

In  the  Osbourn  home  after  the  Waughs  left, 
Harry  stretched  himself  as  if  tired  out. 


AN  EVENING  CALL         155 

"Do  you  really  suppose,  Eleanor,"  he  said,  "that 
'Donald  Waugh  represents  the  best  sentiment  of 
Islington  ?  " 

She  flashed  up  in  an  instant. 

"  He  represents  his  egotistical,  pragmatical,  intoler 
ant  self,  and  Mattie  is  his  echo.  It  makes  me  ill  to 
see  a  woman  so  subservient.  Harry  Osbourn,  do 
you  think  me  an  idiot  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  had  the  remotest  idea  that  you  were 
anything  other  than  an  eminently  level-headed  gen' 
tlewoman,"  he  answered. 

"  Because,"  Eleanor  hesitated  and  blushed,  looking 
lovely  in  her  gown  of  rose-red,  with  her  head  held 
high,  "  I  am  not  going  to  take  any  step  that  you, 
after  deliberation,  honestly  will  tell  me,  you  regard  as 
compromising.  We  are  newcomers  here,  in  a  sense, 
and  you  have  your  career  before  you.  I  shall  not  do 
the  least,  least  thing  to  hinder  or  hamper  you.  But 
I  don't  want  you  to  speak  just  because  you  are  a 
man,  and  therefore  a  natural  wet  blanket.  I  am  a 
grown  woman  and  not  a  child,  but  I  am  open  to  rea 
son,  Harry." 

"  Eleanor,  do  exactly  as  you  think  best,  and  I'll 
stand  by  you.  My  private  opinion  is  that  this  whole 
fuss  is  a  tempest  in  a  teapot.  Why  shouldn't  you 
women  have  a  club  if  you  want  one  ?  " 

Eleanor  turned  away.  Her  husband  was  behaving 
just  as  she  wished  him  to,  yet  the  note  of  indulgence 
annoyed  her.  The  truth  was  that  the  word  club  was 
a  real  stumbling-block  when  women  first  began  to 
form  themselves  into  that  organization.  Society,  as 
sociation,  any  other  term  had  its  accepted  meaning. 
Club  bore  with  it  an  undefined  notion  that  women 


156  ELEANOR   LEE 

meant  to  cope  with  men,  that  they  were  rebellious 
against  domesticity  and  tired  of  home  and  home's 
duties.  As  it  turned  out,  the  club  proved  the  home's 
ally,  and  brought  into  women's  lives  an  element  of 
positive  interest  and  a  desire  for  intellectual  develop 
ment  that  for  the  ordinary  home-keeping  woman 
were  beyond  price.  The  "  Fortnightly  "  in  time  was 
as  honored  by  husbands  as  beloved  by  wives,  but  it 
took  time  to  bring  that  result. 


XVIll 
A  TINY  CLOUD 

MATTIE    WAUGH    and    Eleanor   Osbourn 
were  inseparable  friends,  notwithstanding 
their  differences  about  such  subjects  as  the 
Fortnightly  Club,  and  when  a  year  after  the  Os- 
bourns'    return    there  was  a  little  daughter  in  the 
Waugh  nursery,  Eleanor  readily  agreed  to  become 
the  child's  godmother. 

"  Though  to  tell  the  truth,  Mattie,  you  might  easily 
find  a  better  person  than  I,"  she  said  modestly. 

"  Both  my  husband  and  I  choose  you,"  was  the  re 
ply,  and  Eleanor  taking  her  duties  seriously  began  to 
think  what  she  should  do,  when  Lois  Waugh 
should  be  old  enough  to  go  to  Sunday-school;  how 
she  should  help  the  parents  in  training  their  little  one 
for  heaven. 

In  the  fullness  of  his  pride  and  joy,  Donald  laughed 
at  her,  when  nobody  but  Mattie  was  by.  He  felt 
quite  equal  to  the  task  of  training  a  dozen  children 
and  supervising  their  religious  education,  but  if 
Mattie  wanted  godfathers  and  godmothers,  he  was 
ready  to  oblige  her.  Indeed  it  was  very  seldom  that 
Mattie  Waugh  did  not  direct  her  life,  and  control  her 
husband  according  to  her  own  notions  of  what  was 
most  desirable. 

"Thinking  of  Lois,"  observed  Eleanor,  when  the 
baby  was  a  few  weeks  old,  "  I  have  decided  to  start 
a  Bible  class." 

'57 


158  ELEANOR  LEE 

"You  have?" 

"Yes,  Harry;  down  in  Old  Field  Hollow,  at  the 
mills." 

"  You  cannot  go  there  alone!  I'm  sure  you  ought 
not  even  to  think  of  it." 

"Why  not?"    Eleanor  was  astonished. 

"Neighborhood's  too  rough,  there  are  too  many 
dangerous  characters  prowling  around.  I  shouldn't 
dare  to  let  you  try  it." 

"  But  Harry,  you  might  come  too." 

At  this  Harry  hesitated.  A  Christian  man,  he  had 
a  strange  aversion  to  teaching  or  speaking,  or  in  any 
way  putting  himself  in  the  foreground.  Eleanor 
struggled  hard  to  win  him  from  what  she  thought 
was  morbidness,  and,  her  idea  developing  in  the 
course  of  a  week  or  two,  she  proposed  that  he  should 
start  a  series  of  meetings  for  young  men,  in  the  Hol 
low,  letting  them  follow  her  afternoon  class.  Harry 
had  not  suffered  her  to  go  without  his  escort  or  that 
of  Max  Pomfret,  on  any  of  her  visits,  though  she  was 
a  good  deal  annoyed  and  declared  she  preferred  to  go 
alone. 

"You  see,  Harry,"  she  explained,  "when  you 
walk  there  with  me,  and  stroll  about  without  an  ob 
ject,  every  man,  woman  and  child  who  sees  you,  is 
perfectly  aware  why  you  come.  They  know  as  well 
as  if  I  wore  a  label  that  you  think  I'm  too  precious  to 
be  left  where  I  may  meet  a  drunken  man." 

Instantly  that  she  had  said  it,  she  had  the  shamed 
perception  of  the  woman  who  has  blundered  into 
saying  the  wrong  thing,  and  to  cover  her  error  she 
went  on  talking  very  fast  indeed.  By  a  tacit  under- 
Standing  no  allusion  was  ever  made  by  either  of  them 


A  TINT  CLOUD  159 

to  the  bygone  period  of  Harry's  lapses  from  sobriety. 
That  was  a  closed  chapter.  Eleanor  rattled  on,  and 
hoped  that  she  had  safely  diverted  the  talk  into 
another  channel,  when  her  husband  interrupted  her. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Eleanor.  Just  now  you  did 
say  a  very  true  thing.  I  don't  want  you  thrown  into 
contact  with  those  poor  fellows  down  there.  Sun 
days  they  'are  worse  than  other  days,  for  they  have 
spent  Saturday's  earnings  or  part  of  them  in  the 
saloons,  veritable  hell's  kitchens,  some  of  them,  and 
there's  a  feeling  that  is  not  very  kind  abroad  in  that 
quarter.  You  may  win  the  children  as  much  as  you 
please.  You  may  go  there  clothed  in  your  plainest 
gown.  The  unrest  in  the  air  is  like  malaria.  They 
know  me  for  Donald  Waugh's  attorney,  and  you  for 
Mrs.  Donald  Waugh's  friend.  Your  elegant  home  is 
on  the  Hill  near  that  of  the  Waughs'.  At  the  moment 
the  Waughs  are  not  loved,  and  a  drunken  man  might 
do  you  a  mischief.  I  would  rather  you  hadn't  taken 
up  the  Sunday-school  idea  at  this  particular  crisis. 
Since  you  have,  I  must  protect  you.  It  is  my  right." 

"1  don't  understand,"  Eleanor's  face  was  puzzled. 
"The  whole  support  of  the  Hollow  people  comes 
from  the  work  they  get  in  the  mills  and  Donald  is  a 
just  employer." 

"Surely  he  is,  but  he  lives  in  luxury,  and  th$y  in 
thriftlessness  and  want,  and  they  make  comparisons. 
A  strike  is  imminent,  and  the  mills  may  shut  down. 
If  they  do,  there  will  be  suffering.  Donald  won't 
yield  an  inch  to  the  demands  that  will  soon  be  made 
on  him." 

"Harry,  you  know  as  well  as  I,  that  there  would 
not  be  such  anguish  of  poverty  if  the  men  were  tern- 


160  ELEANOR  LEE 

perate.  Why  won't  you  try  to  help  them  ?  I  am  so 
very  sure  you  could,  and  sure  you  ought." 

"Once  for  all,  Eleanor,  because  humility  becomes 
me.  A  reformed  man  ought  to  take  a  back  seat. 
And  you  can't  know  what  I  ought  to  do! " 

He  left  her  abruptly,  went  to  his  den  up-stairs  and 
shut  the  door.  They  did  not  meet  for  some  hours, 
and  the  subject  was  not  resumed. 

Meanwhile  Eleanor  who  was  not  to  be  easily  turned 
when  she  had  set  her  head  in  any  given  path,  went 
continually  to  the  Hollow,  not  on  Sundays  only,  but 
repeatedly  on  one  or  another  errand  on  week  days. 
To  the  latter,  Harry  made  no  objection.  The  men 
were  then  at  work,  the  streets  deserted,  and  she 
might  minister  comfort  and  counsel,  if  she  wished,  to 
the  women  and  children. 

Curiously,  the  women  refused  her  advances,  and 
she  was  piqued.  Never  before  had  her  father's 
daughter  found  people  insensible  to  her  personal 
charm.  She  asked  her  mother  what  the  reason  could 
possibly  be,  going  to  Mrs.  Lee  with  the  bewilderment 
of  a  baffled  child. 

"They  act  as  if  I  had  no  right  to  step  into  their 
homes,  mother." 

"What  right  have  you,  dear?" 

"Why,  I  don't  know.  My  object  is  to  help  them, 
to  show  them  how  to  keep  house  and  mend  their 
clothes,  and  bring  up  their  boys  and  girls." 

"  But  have  they  asked  your  assistance  ?" 

"Why  no.  Only  as  I've  started  a  Bible  class,  and 
am  making  some  sacrifices  for  those  people,  I  have  a 
sort  of  privilege." 

"Now,  Eleanor,  you  began  that  class  for  your  own 


A  TINY  CLOUD  161 

pleasure,  to  satisfy  your  own  desire  to  be  up  and 
doing.  To  those  who  have  entered  it  you  have  a 
duty,  but  to  the  rest  of  the  Old  Field  Hollow  folk, 
your  intrusion  in  their  home  life  savors  of  some  im 
pertinence.  Would  you  enjoy  having  a  stranger  call 
on  you,  and  straightway  put  through  some  such  cate 
chism  as  this: 

"  'Good-morning,  what  a  bright  day  this  is.  Has 
your  husband  work  ?  Does  he  bring  home  his  wages  ? 
Have  you  any  children  who  can  help  you  ?  Why  do 
you  not  burn  your  cinders  ?  It  is  very  wasteful  to 
throw  them  away.  I  think  your  front  yard  is  not  very 
tidy.  Will  you  plant  flower-seeds  if  I  give  you 
some?'  And  so  on.  I  submit  to  you,  Eleanor,  that 
a  rich  woman  has  no  more  right,  uninvited  and  un 
announced,  to  invade  the  home  of  a  poor  woman, 
than  the  latter  would  have,  were  she  to  undertake 
the  opposite  thing.  I  wonder  they  don't  sweep  you 
out  with  their  brooms!  " 

"Mother!" 

"I  mean  it,  Eleanor." 

"And  you  think  me  intrusive  and  officious?" 

"Not  with  intention,  but  in  reality." 

"Faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend — and  a 
mother;  I'll  think  this  over,"  said  Eleanor,  who  in 
bravery  of  silk  attire  was  on  her  way  to  a  meeting  of 
the  "Fortnightly." 

She  went  down  the  steps  and  came  back. 

"Mother!"  she  called,  and  her  eyes  were  full  of 
tears. 

"  What,  my  daughter  ?  "  Mrs.  Lee  was  troubled  by 
the  distress  in  her  face.  Eleanor  was  hurt  by  some 
thing  and  showed  it. 


1 62  ELEANOR  LEE 

"Have  you  noticed  that  Harry  is  not  well  lately; 
that  he  is  not  cheery,  nor  quick  in  the  uptake,  as  the 
Scotch  say  ?  Is  there  anything  you  have  noticed  ?  " 

"  Dick  Deland  was  speaking  of  Harry  last  evening. 
He  fancies  him  overworked." 

"There  is  something  not  quite  right.  I  wish  we 
had  not  left  the  South.  The  rush  of  the  North  is  too 
much  for  Harry,  I  am  afraid." 

"Don't  borrow  trouble,  Eleanor.  A  man  may 
have  a  passing  touch  of  malaria,  or  may  be  a  little 
worn.  I'm  sure  you  should  not  worry." 

There  was  some  cause  for  anxiety  if  not  for  worry. 
Suddenly  without  evident  reason,  a  dam  may  give 
way,  weakened  by  a  break  that  has  been  unsus 
pected.  Harry  Osbourn  was  not  a  physically  strong 
man.  His  past  had  told  upon  him,  both  its  hardships 
and  its  excesses,  and  forced  into  a  field  of  relentless 
work,  under  great  pressure,  where  the  rewards  were 
large,  but  the  efforts  also  incessant,  he  was  not  quite 
able  to  bear  the  strain.  He  grew  irritable  and  de 
pressed.  There  came  over  him  at  times  an  impulse 
to  drop  everything.  He  was  losing  his  grip. 

As  in  a  flash  light  Eleanor  saw  it  all,  she  even  read 
between  the  lines,  some  of  the  temptations  he  did  not 
put  into  speech.  Half  beside  himself,  without  a  valid 
reason  for  being  so,  Harry  Osbourn  was  meditating 
flight.  Absolutely  without  motive,  except  the  desire 
to  run  away.  Could  it  be  held  in  abeyance  from 
without  ? 

It  was  Max  Pomfret  who  put  Eleanor  on  her  guard. 
He  was  walking  home  with  her  from  her  class  one 
Sunday. 

"I  venture  a  good  deal,  Mrs.  Osbourn,"  he  said, 


A  TINT  CLOUD  163 

abruptly,  "but  you've  got  to  watch  Harry.  He's  not 
"normal  at  present,  don't  you  know." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Well,  dear  lady,  I  mean  only  that  Harry  is  giving 
way.  If  I  were  you,  I'd  just  let  somebody  else  look 
after  these  kids  awhile,  and  I'd  look  after  my  man  at 
home." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Eleanor  at  last,  after  they  had 
walked  a  block  in  silence. 

"Is  there  any  reason  you  know  of,  why  Harry 
can't  hold  his  own  ?  Is  Mr.  Waugh  driving  him  too 
hard  ?  "  She  always  had  a  suspicion  ready  there. 

"None  in  the  world.  But,  madam,  the  man's 
tired  out." 

They  went  on.  Mrs.  Osbourn  asked  Max  in,  but 
he  declined.  He  would  come  after  supper  as  usual 
on  Sunday  evening  and  they  would  sing. 


XIX 
DO  DUTIES  CONFLICT? 

THE  Sunday  night  supper  was  always  a  very 
pleasant  time  in  Eleanor's  home.  Her  mother 
and  sister  came  in,  and  plates  were  laid  for 
guests  who  might  happen  to  call;  a  man  away  from 
home,  or  a  young  girl  in  business  all  the  week,  and 
living  in  a  boarding-house.  That  the  extra  work 
might  not  burden  the  maids,  almost  everything  for 
the  meal  was  prepared  on  Saturday,  and  the  ladies 
themselves  set  the  table  and  afterwards  washed  the 
dishes  and  put  them  away.  A  knack  with  the 
chafing  dish  enabled  Eleanor  to  add  a  hot  dish  to 
the  menu,  and  this  bit  of  home  cooking  and  home 
comfort  with  a  loving  home  welcome  gave  many  a 
young  woman  or  man,  far  from  father  and  mother,  a 
real  lift  on  the  road.  In  a  manufacturing  town,  op 
portunities  for  this  sort  of  service  abound,  and  it  re 
quires  only  the  gentle  thought  so  to  extend  a  cup  of 
cold  water  to  one  of  Christ's  little  ones.  Mrs.  Pom- 
fret's  silver  hair  and  birdlike  daintiness  were  an  at 
traction  when  she  was  with  Max,  for  nothing  is 
lovelier  than  a  lovely  old  gentlewoman,  both  for  the 
grace  she  confers  and  from  an  artistic  view-point.  A 
house  that  never  has  known  a  grandmother's  presence 
has  missed  a  benediction.  Max  was  never  absent. 
He  lounged  and  loafed,  and  was  somewhat  reminis 
cent  of  pipes  and  smoke,  yet  nevertheless  he  talked 

164 


DO  DUTIES  CONFLICT?    165 

well  on  occasion,  and  could  be  an  agreeable  com 
panion.  Men  liked  Max ;  men  as  dissimilar  as  Donald 
Waugh  and  Harry  Osbourn  found  pleasure  in  chatting 
with  him,  and  in  his  various  vicissitudes  he  had 
picked  up  odds  and  ends  of  information  and  a 
knowledge  of  human  nature  that  made  him  inter 
esting. 

"He,  if  anybody,  ought  to  take  a  back  seat," 
reflected  Eleanor  whimsically,  "but  it  is  the  last 
thing  he  thinks  of  doing.  Notwithstanding  all  the 
trouble  and  anxiety  Max  Pomfret's  past  conduct  has 
cost,  he  goes  serenely  on,  without  remorse  or  regret, 
so  far  as  one  can  see,  just  living  in  the  present  hour, 
while  my  Harry  has  not  shaken  off  the  weird  of  the 
evil  spirit  that  held  him  so  long.  Harry  is  the  morbid 
one,  not  Max." 

It  had  come  to  her  in  a  glimpse  of  revelation  that 
she  was  leaving  Harry  to  brood,  while  gradually  the 
new  engagements  that  filled  her  time,  were  taking 
her  a  good  deal  from  home.  She  could  not  honestly 
blame  the  Fortnightly  Club  for  this.  Its  hour  of 
meeting  conflicted  with  no  hour  of  leisure  for  Harry, 
and  the  time  it  required  her  to  spend  in  study  was 
time  spent  at  home.  But  whatever  caused  it,  she 
could  not  evade  the  conclusion,  that  she  was  becom 
ing  a  preoccupied  woman,  a  woman  with  so  many 
and  such  peremptory  calls  upon  her  mind,  that  she 
could  give  her  husband  only  a  half-hearted  attention 
much  of  the  time. 

"  Mother,"  she  said  as  she  helped  Mrs.  Lee  off  with 
her  wraps  in  her  pretty  room  up-stairs,  "tell  me,  do 
duties  clash  ?  Am  I  growing  into  a  person  who  is 
pulled  in  two  ways ?  Have  I  ceased  to  be  restful?" 


1 66  ELEANOR  LEE 

Mrs.  Lee  laughed. 

"My  precious,  you  have  never  been  precisely 
restful.  Vehement,  breezy,  stimulating,  are  the  ad 
jectives  I  would  apply  to  you.  But  why  this  cate 
chism  ?" 

"Max  has  made  me  uneasy  about  Harry." 

Mrs.  Lee's  face  expressed  concern. 

"Yes?  Harry  is  not  looking  well.  I've  noticed 
that." 

"What  can  I  do?" 

"Nothing  now,  except  to  watch  for  the  right  lead 
ing,  or  rather,  let  yourself  be  led.  I  would  spend 
my  Sundays  with  him  for  awhile,  I  think,  and  hand 
over  that  class  so  nicely  organized  now  to  somebody 
else.  Kathleen  and  Dick,  and  some  of  their  friends 
might  try  it." 

"  Do  you  think  they  would  ?  Dick  makes  so  much 
fun  of  my  philanthropies  and  so  does  Kathleen." 

"  I  know.  Still  I  am  of  the  opinion  that,  to  relieve 
you,  they  wouldn't  shrink  from  this  special  task. 
Our  reading  and  talks  lately  have  been  on  suggestive 
lines,  and  we,  at  home,  have  been  finding  out  that 
we  are  much  too  lazy  and  self-indulgent,  so  I  am 
very  hopeful  that  you  may  pass  this  bit  of  work  on 
to  your  sister." 

"  Mother,  when  in  the  world  are  those  two  going 
to  be  married?" 

"Don't  ask  me,  child.  I  am  thankful  for  every 
hour  that  I  can  keep  Kathleen  with  me,  and  Dick  has 
some  home  claims  that  he  cannot  cast  off." 

"  A  long  engagement  is  most  undesirable.  Mother, 
don't  you  agree  with  me,  that  something  should  be 
done  to  hasten  the  wedding  day  ?  " 


DO  DUTIES  CONFLICT?    167 

"  Indeed  no,  dear  child,  I  do  not.  In  this  as  in 
most  cases,  I  have  learned  to  wait  the  Lord's  leading. 
Dick  and  Kathleen  are  both  young,  and  the  present 
is  a  happy  time  for  them.  I  won't  try  to  hurry 
Providence." 

They  found  the  drawing-room  filled  with  a  cheer 
ful  group  of  people.  Harry  had  brightened  up,  and 
was  as  entertaining  as  usual.  Eleanor  slipped  her 
hand  into  his  as  she  passed  him,  and  gave  him  a  look 
of  love  that  was  as  heartening  as  a  caress,  and  his 
glance  was  swiftly  responsive.  Later  she  saw  with 
new  comprehension,  the  droop  of  his  figure  as  he 
sat  a  little  apart  when  they  were  singing  after  supper, 
and  the  absent  far  away  look  of  his  eyes.  Clearly, 
Harry  Osbourn  was  not  well. 

Kathleen  played  and  they  sang  dearly  loved 
anthems  and  chorals,  and  then,  settling  down  in  a 
circle,  they  had  a  half  hour's  reading  before  they 
separated.  Sunday  evening  services  were  not  com 
mon  in  Islington.  People  went  to  church  morning 
and  afternoon,  and  by  a  little  after  ten  at  night,  in 
those  simple  days,  the  silent  curfew  had  given  its 
signal  and  everybody  was  at  home  and  in  bed. 

That  night,  as  they  were  undressing,  Eleanor 
turned  abruptly  to  Harry  and  said,  "  What  ails  you, 
dear?  You  are  somehow  not  yourself." 

"There's  nothing  the  matter  that  I  know  of  Nellie. 
I'm,  maybe,  restless." 

"There's  a  good  deal  the  matter,  Harry.  You  can't 
deceive  your  wife.  Why  don't  I  know  you,  dear, 
through  and  through,  every  thought  before  you  speak 
it  ?  If  you  are  not  well,  or  are  troubled,  why  not 
confide  in  me  ?  Can  you  not  trust  my  affection  ?  " 


1 68  ELEANOR   LEE 

"  My  dear  wife,  I  have  nothing  to  confide.  I  can't 
stand  the  pace  here,  somehow,  that's  all." 

Eleanor  sat  down.  Her  hair  was  around  her 
shoulders  like  a  rippling  veil;  her  dressing  gown 
open  a  little  at  the  throat,  showed  her  white  neck, 
the  loose  sleeves  fell  from  her  rounded  arms.  Her 
husband,  standing  opposite  her,  thought  he  had 
never  seen  a  fairer  vision.  She  looked  up  into  his 
face,  her  eyes  tenderly  compelling. 

"We've  gone  through  a  good  deal  together,  you 
and  I,"  she  said.  "I  can  bear  anything,  Harry. 
But  if  there  is  anything  wrong  I  want  to  know  it." 

"There's  nothing,  my  darling,  except  what  I  tell 
you.  This  husband  of  yours  is  a  failure.  I  can't 
stand  the  pace.  I'm  not  a  big  enough  man  to  under 
take  the  work  Donald  Waugh  cuts  out  for  me,  and 
I  can't  make  money  enough  to  live  and  meet  the  ex 
penses  we  are  having  here.  I  tell  you  this,  Eleanor, 
with  shame.  Why  you  of  all  women,  should  be 
married  to  a  man  inadequate  to  the  occasion,  and 
have  to  carry  him  for  your  lifelong  burden,  I  can't 
see.  Lately  I've  been  rather  hoping  that  I  might  not 
last  very  long.  Then,  you'd  be  free." 

Eleanor's  cheek  had  taken  on  a  red  stain  glowing 
as  the  heart  of  a  jacqueminot  rose.  It  was  in  her  a 
sign  of  deep  emotion. 

"As  if  your  dying  and  leaving  me  would  do  any 
thing  except  break  my  heart,"  she  said.  "Oh! 
Harry,  what  a  foolish  dear  fellow  you  are.  Of 
course  Donald  makes  you  work  too  hard.  I  might 
have  expected  that,  but  he's  a  just  man,  and  cannot 
go  on  exacting  the  impossible.  The  whole  of  the 
matter  is  that  you've  been  losing  cases  instead  of 


DO  DUTIES  CONFLICr?    169 

gaining  them,  and  you  are  losing  faith  in  yourself, 
and  maybe  you  need  a  change  of  some  sort.  If  we 
are  spending  too  much,  why,  we'll  spend  less. 
Why  didn't  you  speak  sooner,  my  darling?  Now, 
cheer  up,  everything  will  come  out  right." 

"And  you  don't  despise  me?"  he  said.  "You 
love,  notwithstanding  everything?"  It  was  almost 
the  same  question  Donald  had  a  few  weeks  before 
asked  Mattie.  Strange  that  love  demands  so  many 
declarations. 

"  Love  you,  of  course  I  love  you,  Harry." 

"  And  all  this  feverish  rushing  here  and  there,  and 
working  in  the  highways  and  the  byways,  and  doing 
good  by  wholesale,  all  this  hasn't  stolen  away  your 
heart  from  me,  has  it,  my  dear  ?" 

"Certainly  not."  Eleanor  felt  vexed.  It  was  so 
unreasonable.  To  have  her  lofty  mood  intruded 
upon  by  this  note  that  seemed  to  her  petty  and 
utterly  needless  was  a  distinct  jar.  It  is  not  always 
easy  for  a  man  and  a  woman  to  understand  each 
other,  even  though  they  are  wife  and  husband  and 
have  spent  years  in  the  ceaseless  comradeship  of  life's 
most  intimate  relation.  Eleanor  was  quick-tempered, 
and  a  retort  was  on  her  tongue,  but  she  checked  it, 
and  spoke  pleasantly.  She  needed  self-restraint  now 
if  ever. 

"I'm  afraid  I've  been  gadding  about  too  much, 
Harry,  but  I'll  be  your  stay-at-home  wife  hereafter. 
You  look  tired,  dear;  don't  let  us  talk  any  more  to 
night." 

As  had  been  their  recent  custom  they  had  good 
night  prayers  together.  Eleanor  sat  beside  the 
shaded  lamp  and  read  a  psalm,  and  they  knelt  and 


i  yo  ELEANOR  LEE 

asked  help  from  One  who  never  is  asked  in  vain. 
But  they  talked  long  before  they  went  to  sleep. 

Next  morning  when  she  was  sealing  the  last  of 
her  letters,  and  gratefully  felt  that  her  correspondence 
for  the  day  was  off  her  hands,  Eleanor  had  a  caller. 
Donald  Waugh  was  announced  and  with  the  freedom 
of  the  friend  of  the  family  walked  into  her  morning 
room. 

"  Mattie  tells  me,"  he  said,  "that  you  and  she 
have  a  plan  on  foot  for  getting  up  a  model  restaurant 
and  reading-room  at  the  mills,  for  the  young 
women.  Improvement,  I  understand  from  her,  of 
their  physical  health,  and  their  intellects,  such  as  they 
have,  is  the  aim  you  have  in  view.  The  idea  strikes 
me  as  feasible,  and,  unless  you  run  away  into  waste 
fulness  and  mere  show,  I'll  stand  back  of  you  with 
cash.  I  am  fully  aware,  Mrs.  Osbourn,  that  the  idea 
did  not  originate  with  my  wife  and  therefore  I  take 
it,  she  is  simply  following  you." 

His  shrewd  eyes  gleamed  and  then  softened.  His 
knowledge  of  Eleanor  was  not  the  superficial  judg 
ment  of  a  new  acquaintance.  He  thought  he  guaged 
her  very  accurately,  and,  the  softness  passing  from 
his  look,  he  proceeded  sententiously. 

"  I  can  talk  to  you  freely  without  giving  offense. 
I'm  not  going  to  have  my  work-people  spoiled  by 
fads,  or  by  pity.  They  do  their  work  under  fairly 
good  conditions  in  a  fairly  good  environment,  and 
they  are  well  paid.  Never  in  my  life  have  I  been  tol 
erant  of  sentiment,  as  sentiment.  But  I'm  willing  to 
try  this  experiment,  within  reason,  and  to  back  you 
and  Mattie,  as  Mattie  has  set  her  heart  on  the  thing. 
I'm  putting  it  ungraciously,  I'm  afraid.  I've  had  that 


DO  DUTIES  CONFLICT?    171 

misfortune  all  my  life  when  I've  talked  with  you, 
frellie." 

The  childish  diminutive  slipped  out  before  he  knew 
it.  The  man  was  of  granite,  but  there  were  rifts  in 
the  rock.  He  would  never  get  over  the  habit  of 
friendliness  when  he  talked  with  the  woman  he  had 
petted  in  her  babyhood. 

"  You  are  just  exactly  as  you  always  are,  Donald," 
said  Eleanor,  "  the  best  hearted  old  bear  in  the  world. 
If  you  had  come  to  me  Saturday  and  said  all  this,  I 
would  have  been  the  happiest  creature  in  Islington. 
As  it  is,  I'm  afraid  I  can't  avail  myself  of  your  good 
ness,  and  I  fear  Mattie  must  look  for  somebody  else 
to  help  her;  I'm  sure  I'll  not  have  the  time." 

Donald  looked  amazed. 

"Mattie  will  do  nothing  without  you,  Eleanor. 
You  would  be  right  hand,  right  eye,  right  foot  in 
such  an  undertaking.  She  hates  initiative  as  much 
as  you  love  it.  Besides,  she  has  the  baby,  and  her 
time  is  very  full." 

Again  his  rugged  face  softened.  Fatherhood  trans 
figured  it.  When  Donald  held  his  child  in  his  arms, 
he  was  another  man  from  the  mill-owner  who  trod 
the  streets  like  an  autocrat;  from  the  severe  look 
ing  deacon  who  passed  the  plate  on  Sunday  like  an 
austere  saint  of  the  middle  ages.  As  he  now  spoke 
of  the  baby,  a  smile  like  sunshine  lit  the  square- 
hewn  countenance.  He  rubbed  his  large  capable 
hands  together.  How  proud  he  was  of  that  baby  at 
home!  Dear  little  Lois! 

"  Whence  this  sudden  change  of  intention  ?  " 

A  little  mockery,  was  it  possible,  stole  into  his 
tone. 


172  ELEANOR   LEE 

"  Can  it  be  that  you  are  taking  the  sensible  view, 
that  you  perceive  that  the  discontent  of  the  working 
class  should  be  discounted  by  sensible  people,  that 
you  are  ready  to  acknowledge  yourself  mistaken  in 
some  of  the  compassion  you  have  been  expending?" 

"Oh,  for  pity's  sake,  Donald  Waugh,  be  still," 
exclaimed  Eleanor,  blazing  up  in  an  instant.  "  I  am 
far  on  the  road  to  socialism  all  through  you !  Your 
work-people  have  wretched  unsanitary  homes. 
Their  work  is  monotonous  and  maddening.  Your 
factories  are  ill-ventilated  and  dirty.  When  I  see  the 
train  of  women  and  girls,  pale,  sallow,  hollow-eyed, 
round  shouldered,  and  tired  to  death,  that  files  out  of 
your  mills  every  night  at  half  past  five,  I'm  beside 
myself  with  sympathy.  Want  to  help  them,  do  I  ? 
Yes,  with  my  whole  heart,  and  with  both  hands.  But 
this  isn't  a  task  to  be  thrown  on  Mattie  and  me.  She 
has  her  baby,  I  have  my  husband.  Donald,  do  it 
yourself,  if  you  are  convinced  it  should  be  done. 
Build  a  reading  room  and  start  a  restaurant,  and  en 
gineer  it  all,  as  only  you  can.  Get  Miss  Rachel  to 
take  hold.  She  has  a  head.  I've  got  my  work  cut 
out  at  home.  Something's  amiss  with  Harry." 

Donald  rose,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Eleanor,"  he  said,  "  if  anybody  but  you  dared  to 
talk  to  me  as  you  do,  I'd  resent  it.  I'd  resent  it 
fiercely.  But  you  are  privileged.  I'll  think  over 
what  you've  said.  You  are  on  the  right  road  if  you 
mean  to  devote  yourself  to  Osbourn.  He's  not  all 
right,  but,  for  the  life  of  me,  I  can't  make  out  why. 
Here,  too,  remember,  if  you  need  a  friend,  you  and 
he  may  always  count  on  me." 

He  bowed  himself  out.     There  were  worse  men 


DO  DUTIES  CONFLICr?    173 

in  the  earth  than  this  same  grim,  granite-natured  Don 
ald  Waugh. 

Eleanor  sat  a  good  while  thinking  over  the  inter 
view.  She  took  down  finally,  at  random,  a  little 
book  from  the  shelf  of  her  desk,  and  opened  it  to 
this  passage. 

"One  evening  when  Luther  saw  a  little  bird 
perched  on  a  tree,  to  roost  there  for  the  night,  he 
said,  '  This  little  bird  has  had  its  supper,  and  now  it 
is  getting  ready  to  go  to  sleep  here,  quite  secure  and 
content,  never  troubling  itself  what  its  food  will  be, 
or  where  its  lodging  on  the  morrow.  Like  David,  it 
abides  under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty.  It  sits  on 
its  little  twig  content  and  lets  God  take  care.'  " 

The  little  incident  that  had  comforted  the  great 
Martin  Luther,  had  its  lesson  of  consolation  for  the 
woman  who  found  it  when  she  was  not  seeking  a 
message.  She  put  on  her  hat  and  went  out  into 
God's  bright  morning  and  the  fresh  sweet  air. 


XX 
DONALD  INTERFERES 

WHEN  Donald  left  Eleanor  and  walked 
towards  the  mills,  his  mind  was  an  arena 
of  opposite  contentions.  Eleanor's  plain- 
speaking  somewhat  amused  him.  He  certainly  could 
not  be  expected  to  change  his  point  of  view,  the 
view-point  of  a  lifetime,  at  the  hot  words  of  a 
woman,  who  was  nothing,  if  not  tempestuous. 
Donald  knew  far  more  than  she  did  about  the 
seething  undercurrents  of  agitation  among  factory 
operatives  all  over  the  land.  The  mutterings  of  a 
coming  storm  were  even  now  heard  in  various 
quarters,  strikes  were  threatening  here  and  there; 
the  figure  of  the  obnoxious,  half-educated  and  turbu 
lent  orator,  who  is  invariably  ready  to  feed  the  flame 
of  a  smouldering  dissatisfaction  with  fiery  argu 
ments,  was  looming  up  in  the  near  distance.  Saloons 
were  rapidly  multiplying.  Donald  passed  them  on 
every  corner,  for  alas!  with  the  growth  of  Islington 
in  beauty  and  luxury,  keeping  step  with  that  growth, 
had  come  another  of  rampant  vice  and  temptation. 
The  saloon  was  a  menace  to  the  peace  and  purity  of  the 
town,  and  its  twin,  the  gambling-den  was  lurking  in 
the  shadows.  Donald  was  disposed  to  deny  nearly 
every  count  of  Eleanor's  indictment.  Nevertheless, 
something  deep  down  in  his  soul,  the  strong,  straight 
element  in  the  man  that  made  for  righteousness  was 


DONALD  INTERFERES      175 

on  her  side.  Likewise,  he  thrilled  with  a  feeling  of 
pity  for  her,  she  seemed  so  fitted  by  her  charm  and 
grace,  and  the  rare  qualities  of  a  rich  nature  for  a  life 
of  social  leadership,  of  ease  and  happiness,  that  one 
wondered  why  she  had  not  achieved  it.  Instead,  she 
was  still  to  be,  Donald  felt,  a  being,  storm-tossed  and 
blown  about  by  winds  of  an  unknown  fate,  a  driven 
leaf.  Donald  realized,  as  he  seldom  had,  the  puzzle 
of  the  world. 

On  the  whole,  he  was  rather  pleased  to  carry  out 
the  undertaking  himself  in  his  own  way  without 
feminine  flutterings,  balancings  and  continual  changes 
of  adjustment.  He  sent  for  an  architect  and  ordered 
plans  drawn  out  in  accordance  with  instructions  very 
clearly  given.  This,  too,  before  he  left  his  office  for 
home  that  afternoon. 

He  was  a  good  deal  disturbed  about  Harry  Osbourn. 
The  man  was  breaking  in  some  subtle  way,  and  it 
was  too  soon  for  him  to  break.  Yet  there  was  noth 
ing  on  which  to  set  a  definite  finger.  A  little  erratic, 
a  little  unable  to  hold  to  the  point,  at  times  moody, 
at  other  times  irritable,  again  surpassingly  clever, 
never  anything  but  courteous,  Osbourn  was  an 
enigma  to  him.  The  soul  of  honor,  Donald  felt  him 
to  be,  and  with  all  who  knew  Harry,  deemed  him 
above  suspicion,  yet  there  were  times  when  he  had  a 
certain  furtiveness,  as  of  one  who  had  something  to 
conceal.  Donald  shook  his  big  shoulders  with  im 
patience,  as  he  thought  of  it,  and  repeated  almost 
what  Harry  himself  had  said,  repeated  it  aloud  in  the 
privacy  of  his  own  inner  office,  "The  pace  is  too 
swift  for  him,  I  ought  to  have  left  him  in  the  South." 

Meanwhile  the  tide  suddenly  turned  in   Harry's 


176  ELEANOR   LEE 

favor,  and  he  won  two  or  three  cases,  just  as  he  had 
lost  two  or  three.  These  were  before  a  jury,  and  in 
pleading  with  a  jury  to  listen,  he  was  at  his  best.  At 
home  Eleanor  quietly  reconstructed  the  domestic  cab 
inet,  cutting  down  her  force  of  servants,  and  in 
stituting  a  new  economy.  She  was  unobtrusively  at 
hand  when  her  husband  needed  her,  walking  with 
him  in  the  morning,  meeting  him  at  night  and  coax 
ing  him  to  take  little  roundabout  trips  with  her  on 
their  way  home.  Islington  no  longer  had  stages  as 
of  old,  when  an  omnibus  accommodating  twelve 
passengers,  was  its  only  public  conveyance,  except  a 
hired  coach,  and  people  who  did  not  keep  horses  did 
a  great  deal  of  walking,  to  the  advantage  of  health 
and  neighborliness.  When  one  walks  to  and  fro, 
one  also  runs  in  upon  a  friend  for  a  cup  of  tea  and  a 
half  hour's  chat.  Islington  had  accepted  the  inno 
vation  of  the  horse  car,  and  many  short  rides  and 
little  jaunts  were  made  practicable  at  small  expense. 
Eleanor  and  Harry  took  the  horse  cars  on  every  pre 
text,  to  the  amusement  of  Dick  and  Kathleen  and 
the  annoyance  of  Mrs.  Lee,  who  thought  the  new 
order  of  things  much  too  democratic.  What  would 
they  have  said  to  cable  cars  and  trolleys  ?  Months 
passed  by  quietly  and  without  incident  in  the  home 
chronicles,  until  there  dawned  a  very  bright  day  for 
Eleanor  Osbourn.  Once  more  the  Angel  of  Life 
crossed  her  threshold,  and  this  time  the  son  who  was 
laid  in  her  arms,  a  strong  sturdy  boy,  came  to  stay. 

Is  there  any  joy  like  it,  the  joy  that  floods  a  house 
hold  when  God  sends  it  a  little  child  ?  When  God 
would  show  forth  His  great  love  to  a  weary  and  sin 
ful  and  suffering  world,  He  sent  forth  His  only  be- 


DONALD  INTERFERES     177 

gotten  Son,  a  babe  cradled  in  a  mother's  arms,  and 
laid  to  sleep  in  a  manger.  But  heaven  was  all  astir 
with  the  gladness  of  it  and  the  greatness  of  the  gift, 
and  the  angels  in  a  flaming  host,  leaned  down  the 
midnight  sky  to  strike  their  harps  and  sing,  "  Glory 
to  God  in  the  highest,  on  earth  peace,  good-will  to 
men."  In  a  less  degree,  a  fainter  measure,  there  is 
joy  whenever  any  little  one  comes  "trailing  clouds  of 
glory,"  to  bless  an  earthly  home. 

The  rich  man  counteth  his  cares 

By  the  shining  gowd  in's  hand, 
By's  ships  that  sail  on  the  sea, 

By's  harvests  that  whiten  the  land. 
The  puir  man  counteth  his  blessings 

By  the  ring  o'  voices  sweet, 
By  the  hope  that  glints  in  bairnies'  een, 

By  the  sound  o'  bairnies'  feet. 

An'  it's  welcome  hame,  my  darlin', 

Hame  to  mither  and  me  ! 
An'  it's  never  may  ye  find  less  o'  luve, 

Than  the  luve  ye  brought  wi'  ye  ! 
Cauld  are  the  blasts  o'  the  wild  wind, 

An'  rough  the  warld  may  be, 
But  warm  is  the  hame  o'  the  wee  one 

In  the  hearts  o'  mither  an*  me. 

'One  discovers  sentiment  where  one  least  expects 
it.  One  does  not  go  prospecting  for  sentiment  in  the 
counting-room  or  the  lawyer's  office,  yet  in  the 
pockets  of  men,  both  business  and  professional,  one 
often  finds  a  simple  bit  of  homely  verse  like  this, 
treasured  up  and  folded  away  in  the  wallet  among 
the  bank  bills  and  receipts. 
Harry  pulled  himself  together  after  the  boy's  arrival, 


1 78  ELEANOR   LEE 

and  a  halcyon  interval  dawned  for  him  and  his.  Mean 
while  Donald  was  proceeding  in  his  accustomed  mas 
terful  fashion,  and  the  new  edifice  for  the  comfort  and 
improvement  of  women-operatives  in  the  factory  rose 
from  foundation  stone  to  roof. 

In  the  very  beginning  of  the  enterprise  Donald 
made  a  characteristic  blunder.  It  was  in  choosing 
the  site.  As  the  whole  of  the  Old  Field  Hollow  was 
his  property,  he  naturally  considered  himself  within 
his  rights  in  tearing  down  and  building  up  wherever 
he  pleased.  Unfortunately  the  Hollow  had  been  let 
alone  so  long  that  the  shackly  houses  and  reeking 
tenements  there  had  grown  familiar  and  dear  to  the 
occupants,  who  were  bitterly  and  furiously  angry 
when  obliged  to  remove,  because  the  owner  had  de 
cided  to  tear  down  a  certain  rookery,  and  erect  a  new 
and  fine  building  where  it  had  been  standing.  Other 
and  better  houses  offered  these  people  shelter  at  rea 
sonable  rates,  houses  which  might  almost  be  styled 
models  of  convenience  and  hygiene,  with  laundry 
tubs  and  basins  for  running  water  and  other  pleasant 
features.  They  scorned  such  fine  apartments  and  en 
tered  them  under  protest,  proceeding  to  mar  them  by 
neglect.  As  Donald's  beautiful  brick  building  rose, 
story  by  story,  the  very  girls  for  whom  it  was 
planned,  surveyed  it  superciliously,  while  their 
fathers  and  mothers  sullenly  declared  that  the  scheme 
was  something  meant  to  give  the  "old  man"  more 
money. 

"If  I  were  looking  for  gratitude,  Mattie,  I'd  be  dis 
appointed,"  said  Donald  one  day,  "but  I  know  the 
working-man  and  his  class  too  well  for  that.  They 
don't  know  the  alphabet  of  gratitude." 


DONALD  INTERFERES      179 

"  Don't  be  a  pessimist,  Donald,"  laughed  Mattie. 
--  He  lifted  his  little  daughter  to  his  shoulder,  and  let 
her  touch  the  chandelier  with  her  small  rosy  fingers. 

"  I  am  not  a  pessimist,  Mattie,"  he  answered.  "I 
might  be,  but  for  my  home." 

"  When  the  doors  are  opened,  and  the  young  peo 
ple  learn  that  the  whole  place  is  theirs,  and  not  ours, 
you  will  see  a  different  state  of  feeling  in  the 
Hollow." 

"  I  hope  so,  Mattie.    May  God  grant  it." 

After  a  pause  he  went  on,  "  People  call  me  a 
hard  man.  I  have  never  known  why.  From  my 
boyhood  I've  had  to  fight  my  way  inch  by  inch,  but 
I've  tried  to  do  the  right  thing,  and  I'm  soft-hearted 
underneath;  I  really  am." 

"Nobody  understands  that  better  than  I  do,"  said 
his  wife. 


XXI 
A  HALL  OF  REST 

FLOWERS  in  the  windows,  a  grand  piano,  a 
dining-room  with  small  tables,  each  provided 
with  delicate  napkins  and  cloth,  and  supplied 
with  fine  blue  china,  a  big  bright  parlor,  with  divans, 
easy  chairs  and  rockers,  and  in  brief  every  home  like 
equipment  that  could  be  thought  of,  were  parts  of 
the  admirable  and  beautiful  house  which  Donald 
called  a  Hall  of  Rest,  and  opened  for  his  women 
operatives. 

The  lavatories  alone  were  sumptuous,  with  bath 
rooms  where  tiled  floors  and  walls,  and  nickel-plated 
fittings  surpassed  anything  ever  before  seen  in  the 
Hollow.  There  were  in  fact  people  there  who  had 
never  seen  a  bath-room  at  all. 

Mattie  and  Eleanor  went  through  the  spacious  edi 
fice,  attending  to  its  final  furnishing,  selecting  books 
for  its  library  and  periodicals  for  its  reading  room, 
with  a  delight  that  knew  no  bounds.  The  place,  as 
a  place,  was  simply  perfect,  lacking  nothing  that 
taste  or  money  could  add  to  it,  and  Mattie  enthusi 
astically  entered  into  the  plans  for  its  opening.  Here 
she  made  her  first  mistake. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  a  good  idea,"  she  said,  "to 
have  a  reception  for  our  friends,  and  the  ministers  of 
Islington,  and  the  common  council  and  everybody  of 

i  So 


A  HALL  OF  REST          181 

note,  before  we  formally  hand  this  over  to  the  girls. 
If  you  approve,  dear,  I'll  send  out  the  invitations  at 
once." 

Donald  approved,  this  step  commending  itself  to 
his  judgment  as  an  eminently  appropriate  thing. 
Every  one  responded,  for  there  had  been  no  little 
curiosity  about  this  new  departure  of  Mr.  Waugh's 
as  a  practical  philanthropist,  and  when  the  day  ap 
pointed  arrived,  a  stream  of  carriages  blocked  the 
way,  and  gaily  dressed  ladies  thronged  the  Hollow 
for  several  hours  of  the  afternoon.  As  the  works 
closed  for  the  day,  and  the  long  procession  of  stoop- 
shouldered,  haggard,  weary-eyed  girls  and  women 
issued  from  the  gates,  on  their  way  homeward,  they 
encountered  the  prosperous,  merry,  laughing  crowd 
who  to  them  represented  what  they  called  "the 
quality."  These  people  they  thought  were  arrayed 
like  the  lilies  of  the  fields  because  somebody  else  did 
their  toiling  and  their  spinning,  the  somebody  else  in 
their  view  being  the  laboring  population,  faring, 
worn  and  discouraged  to  its  supper,  snatching  what 
pleasure  it  could  find  in  the  streets,  and  seeing  much 
of  its  hard  earned  wages  disappear  every  Saturday 
night,  in  the  till  of  the  saloon  keeper. 

"  ' All  hof  Rest  hindeed !  "  cried  a  red-faced  English 
woman,  known  as  "  Gypsey  Mary,"  "  'All  hof  Rest! 
They's  never  'ave  hit,  but  for  the  sweat  of  our 
brows." 

"Oh,  mother,"  pleaded  Mary's  pretty  young 
daughter,  "  you're  not  goin'  to  be  against  it,  are  you? 
There's  so  many  nice  things  there,  and  1  want  to 
rock  in  the  chairs,  and  take  baths,  in  those  big  white 
tubs." 


182  ELEANOR   LEE 

"Don't  you  worry,  Betsey,"  the  mother  looked 
with  tender  pride  on  the  slim  girl  whose  blue  eyes 
were  so  appealingly  raised  to  hers.  "  Don't  you 
worry,  you  get  hall  the  good  you  can  hout  of  this 
'all,  'twon't  last  so  long  hany  'ow." 

The  hall  was  thrown  open  to  the  Hollow  people 
with  special  ceremony,  and  a  fine  amateur  concert 
was  given  to  signalize  its  first  evening.  The  young 
ladies  of  Islington,  with  a  sweet  faced  matron  at  the 
head  of  each  group,  took  on  themselves  the  duty  of 
presiding  over  the  dining-room  at  the  noon  hour,  and 
over  the  evenings,  where  clubs  and  classes  were 
soon  started  and  free  lectures  were  announced.  A 
competent  cook  and  janitor  were  installed;  no  bur 
densome  restrictions  were  laid  upon  the  house  or  its 
visitors,  and,  to  save  their  pride  and  prevent  their 
feeling  of  being  pauperized,  a  fee  was  required  for 
entrance  upon  the  classes,  and  every  item  on  the 
bill  of  fare,  from  soups  to  pastry,  was  charged  for  at 
a  nominal  sum. 

The  girls  came  from  curiosity  at  the  outset,  and 
reported  at  home  what  they  had  to  eat,  and  how  it 
was  served.  The  mothers  sniffed  scornfully  and  al 
luded  to  airs,  stating  with  emphasis  that  no  such 
silly  frills  and  upsetting  fusses  would  ever  be  allowed 
in  their  houses,  and  the  fathers,  hard-working  men, 
who  might  have  known  better,  openly  jeered,  and 
talked  of  "the  old  man  "  as  making  his  pile  out  of  it 
somehow. 

"  It's  us  as  pays  for  that  'ere  place,"  declared  John 
Thomas,  a  leader  among  the  men,  and  a  frequent  de- 
claimer  in  the  coteries  that  gathered  in  the  back  room 
of  the  corner  grocery. 


A  HALL  OF  REST          183 

"Don't  you  be  too  grateful,  Betsey, " said  Gypsey 
Mary,  after  she  had  taken  a  meal  at  the  noon-hour, 
at  one  of  the  dainty  tables. 

"I've  known  Donald  Waugh,  boy  an'  man,  since 
I  was  a  slip  of  a  lass  myself.  'E  hain't  givin'  some- 
thin*  for  nothin',  now  you  bet!  " 

So  the  new  enterprise  born  of  a  genuine  desire  to 
please  and  uplift,  had  to  fight  an  atmosphere  of  sus 
picion  and  make  its  way  in  the  face  of  a  smouldering 
antagonism,  that  was  often  voiceless,  but  constantly 
hostile. 

Until  the  sympathies  of  the  employed  and  the  em 
ployer  are  identical,  until  the  masses  comprehend  the 
classes,  until  Christ's  dear  love  proves  the  solvent  for 
every  earthly  hate,  this  feeling  of  thunder  in  the  air 
will  not  pass.  We  wrestle  in  our  blundering  and 
groping  charity,  not  against  flesh  and  blood,  but 
against  principalities  and  powers,  unseen  and  malig 
nant,  and  the  world-rulers  of  the  darkness  unfolding 
us  are  potential  and  obstinate.  Still  must  we  cry  in 
our  weakness  and  defeat. 

"  Thou,  who  dost  dwell  alone, 
Thou  who  dost  know  Thine  own, 
Thou,  to  whom  all  are  known, 
From  the  cradle  to  the  grave, 
From  the  world's  temptation, 
From  tribulation, 
From  that  fierce  anguish 
Wherein  we  languish, 
From  that  torpor  deep 
Wherein  we  lie  asleep, 
Heavy  as  death,  cold  as  the  grave, 
Save,  oh !  save  ! 


1 84  ELEANOR  LEE 

"  O  where  Thy  voice  doth  come 
Let  all  doubts  be  dumb, 
Let  all  words  be  mild, 
All  strifes  be  reconciled, 
All  pains  beguiled ! 
Light  bring  no  blindness, 
Love  no  unkindness, 
Fear  no  undoing ! 
From  the  cradle  to  the  grave, 
Save,  oh  !  save." 

Eleanor  read  this  poem  of  Matthew  Arnold's  one 
morning  as  she  sat  by  her  sleeping  baby.  So  much 
reading  she  did  by  that  child's  little  crib,  so  much  the 
tiny  life  was  teaching  her!  A  child's  development  is 
very  rapid  in  its  earliest  months  and  years,  but  the 
mother's  unfolding  is  hardly  less  swift.  Eleanor  un 
derstood  the  mothers  in  Old  Field  Hollow,  as  she 
never  could  have  done,  had  not  her  boy's  tiny 
crumpled  fist  put  the  key  to  their  hearts  in  her  hand. 

Donald  and  Mattie  called  one  day  before  dinner. 
Harry  Osbourn  met  them  as  he  always  did  most 
genially,  and  urged  them  to  stay.  Eleanor  seconded 
him  cordially,  though  she  felt  bound  to  tell  them  they 
must  take  pot-luck,  since  it  was  her  cook's  afternoon 
out.  They  needed  no  urging,  and  when  Max  Pom- 
fret  lounged  in,  he  too  was  invited  to  remain  and 
they  had  a  merry  meal. 

Dinner  was  half  over  when  the  three  men  at  the 
table  sprang  up  with  a  startled  exclamation.  Harry 
rushed  to  the  window.  A  red  glow  lit  up  the  sky. 

"Fire!"  he  exclaimed.  "Fire!"  echoed  Donald. 
•"  It  must  be  at  the  mills." 

Just  then  the  loud  sonorous  clang  of  the  alarm  bell 


A  HALL  OF  REST          185 

-was  heard,  pealing,  pealing,  with  the  note  of  strenu 
ous  clamor  that  no  other  bell  repeats.  Without  a 
word  the  men  seized  hats  and  coats  and  were  off,  on 
a  dead  run,  in  the  direction  of  the  nearest  car.  The 
cars  were  already  blocked  and  they  tore  breathlessly 
on,  only  Donald  panting  and  finally  stopping,  as  he 
lost  wind.  He  had  been  putting  on  the  flesh  of  pros 
perity  and  time,  and  running  was  a  bit  too  much  for 
him.  But  he  gained  breath  and  hurried  on. 

Left  alone  Mattie  Waugh  and  Eleanor  looked  at  one 
another  blankly.  They  were  midway  in  the  dinner, 
but  if  there  was  fire  at  the  mills,  they  had  no  further 
appetite. 

"Suppose  we  follow  our  husbands,"  was  Eleanor's 
suggestion,  and  Mattie  accepted  it.  They  slipped  on 
loose  cloaks  and  tied  hoods  over  their  heads,  and  at 
once  set  out,  at  a  quick  pace.  It  was  night  by  this 
time  and  the  darkness  swallowed  them  up. 

"Nell!" 

"What,  dear?" 

There  were  tears  in  Mattie's  voice. 

"If  it's  our  Hall  of  Rest,  that  somebody's  set  on 
fire,  my  heart  will  break." 

"Nonsense,  Mattie.  It's  not  the  hall.  But  maybe 
the  hall  will  have  to  be  used  in  a  way  we  didn't  in 
tend,  if  it's  the  poor  people's  own  houses  that  are 
burning.  It  may  not  be  one  of  the  mills.  Their 
homes  are  tinder-boxes." 

"Well,  we'll  soon  know,"  said  Mattie,  hurrying 
Eleanor  on. 

They  were  nearly  at  the  Hollow.  They  heard  the 
roar  of  the  mill-stream  as  it  broke  over  the  dam,  and 
the  rvthmic  throbbing  of  the  engines,  like  a  mighty 


1 86  ELEANOR  LEE 

pulse,  as  great  columns  of  water  rose  and  fell  in 
sheets  over  the  red  spears  of  the  flame. 

"That  blaze  is  too  light  to  be  factory  or  hall,"  said 
Mattie.  "The  Hollow  itself  must  be  on  fire.  The 
wind  is  rising  and  blowing  towards  the  town.  You 
were  right,  Eleanor." 

"Hello!    What  are  you  doing  here?" 

Max  was  swinging  home  with  his  long  stride. 

"You  go  back!"  he  said.  "They've  got  the  fire 
under  control.  Islington's  safe  for  this  time." 

"  Do  you  imagine  we've  come  so  far  to  turn  round 
and  go  home  ?  We  are  both  going  straight  on  to  see 
what  we  can  do.  I  am  sure  there  are  people  whom 
we  can  assist.  The  women  will  need  us." 

Eleanor  spoke  very  earnestly. 

Max  answered  her  with  equal  earnestness. 

"Mrs.  Osbourn,  some  of  those  people  are  besides 
themselves  with  rage.  They  are  standing  by  their 
burning  houses,  and  they  are  ready  to  do  or  say  any 
thing.  They  may  insult  you.  It  is  no  place  for 
ladies." 

"I  am  not  afraid.  I'd  be  enraged  if  I  were  they. 
I  think  if  this  is  their  mood  they  need  somebody  with 
woman's  wit  to  cope  with  it.  Come  along,  Mattie." 

"Well,  I'll  go  back.  Can  I  leave  a  message  for 
either  of  you  at  home?" 

Both  had  messages  to  send  to  housekeeper  or 
nurse,  for  they  did  not  know  how  long  they  might 
be  detained  by  this  new  call  of  duty. 

"  I  ought  perhaps  to  have  mentioned,"  said  Max, 
as  he  left,  "that  I  was  sent  back  to  reassure  you,  and 
to  tell  you  to  stay  where  you  were,  by  Mr.  Waugh 
himself." 


A  HALL  OF  REST          187 

"Well,"  replied  Mattie  cheerfully,  "you  have  de 
livered  your  message  and  obeyed  your  orders,  so  that 
your  conscience  is  clear." 

Pitiful  indeed  was  the  scene  of  desolation  and  dire 
confusion  which  met  their  eyes  when  they  stood  on 
the  edge  of  the  crowd,  around  the  ruins,  still  red  and 
smoking,  of  the  homes  of  the  Hollow.  An  indis 
criminate  mass  of  household  stuff,  pots,  kettles, 
feather  beds,  old  chairs,  and  tables,  infants'  cradles, 
and  sewing  machines,  was  heaped  in  the  centre  of 
one  street,  and  women  stood  about  it,  wringing  their 
hands  in  dumb  misery.  Women,  rich  and  poor, 
cling  to  their  things,  and  to  see  the  wreck  of 
furniture  familiar  by  long  usage,  is  always  a  bitter 
experience  for  them  to  bear.  The  wife  of  the 
millionaire  and  the  queen  in  her  palace  feel  about 
this,  exactly  as  Mrs.  O'Flaherty  and  Mrs.  Mulhavey 
do,  and  the  latter  suffer  as  acutely  as  the  former 
when  a  catastrophe  engulfs  their  Lares  and  Penates. 

Many  of  the  things  in  question  were  expensive  and 
had  been  bought  little  by  little.  Working  people 
have  pianos,  for  instance,  and  their  sons  and  daugh 
ters  play  on  them,  sometimes  very  well,  finding 
great  joy  in  the  practice  of  difficult  compositions, 
sometimes,  like  their  avenue  brothers  and  sisters 
dashing  into  rag-time  tunes.  A  smile  crossed  the 
grim  countenance  of  Donald  Waugh,  as  he  saw,  by 
the  flame's  dying  glare,  a  slender  wizen-faced  lad, 
seat  himself  at  the  piano  somebody  had  saved  and 
after  a  little  running  ripple  of  melody,  break  in  a 
clear  tenor,  into  a  rollicking  song. 

"We  won't  go  home  till  morning." 

The  crowd,  despairing,  excited,  wavering  on  the 


1 88  ELEANOR   LEE 

verge  of  anger,  had  one  of  those  sudden  changes  of 
mood  that  come  to  crowds,  a  change  as  complete 
as  the  veering  of  the  wind  from  north  to  south. 
Everybody  joined  in  the  mirthful  chorus,  and  men, 
women,  and  children  laughed  and  sang.  Everything 
was  not  gone.  They  still  had  hearts  to  sing.  At 
the  moment  this  ditty  served  them  better  than  a 
hymn. 

Eleanor's  silvery  soprano  lent  itself  to  the  strain. 
Harry  struck  in  with  a  tremendous  bass.  When  the 
song  ended,  at  his  wife's  request  Harry  lifted  up  his 
voice,  a  voice  that  carried  far  and  clearly,  and  in 
vited  every  one  to  come  to  the  Hall  of  Rest. 

Thither  they  trooped,  the  swarthy,  grimy  firemen, 
the  husbands  and  wives,  and  the  sleepy  children, 
fathers  holding  the  little  ones  in  their  arms,  tired 
women  dragging  themselves  along.  As  if  by  magic 
a  supper  was  prepared  and  everybody  sat  down, 
Donald  and  Mattie,  Eleanor  and  Harry  sitting  and 
breaking  bread  with  the  rest.  As  Donald  asked  a 
blessing  on  the  meal,  many  a  man  unused  to  this 
acknowledgment  and  prayer,  said  a  quiet  amen,  and 
when  they  ate  together,  one  of  the  mistakes  of  the 
past  was  retrieved. 

The  common  need,  the  common  fatigue,  the  loaf 
and  the  cup  shared,  bind  men  in  brotherhood. 

The  people,  else  without  shelter,  slept  that  night 
in  the  Hall,  and  Donald  took  piles  of  new  blankets 
from  a  mill,  to  cover  them  from  the  cold.  He  went 
about  simply,  as  man  to  man,  as  friend  to  friend  and 
some  who  had  been  drifting  from  him,  knew  th?  old 
touch  and  thrill  of  fealty  again.  They  would  wom 
for  him  with  greater  loyalty  hereafter. 


A  HALL  OF  REST          189 

Gypsey  Mary  laid  her  black  head  down  on  the  arm 
of  a  chair,  and  cried.  Eleanor  went  to  her  and 
kneeling  down,  put  her  arms  around  the  sobbing 
woman.  A  tempestuous  creature  always,  she  was 
soothed  by  the  loving  contact. 

"Don't  cry  so,  Mary,"  Eleanor  pleaded.  "Your 
little  girl  is  safe,  and  asleep  on  the  lounge  yonder,  as 
pretty  as  a  picture.  What  ails  you,  dear  ?  Do  hush 
and  tell  me." 

"  I've  lost  mother's  clock  that  I  brought  from  Eng 
land,"  wailed  Mary. 

"  1  don't  wonder  you  cry,"  said  Eleanor,  "but  dear 
heart,  you've  saved  your  lassie,  so  be  comforted." 

The  gray  dawn  was  trembling  in  the  east,  when 
the  Hill  people  wended  their  steps  homeward  from 
the  Hollow.  They  were  tired  but  somehow  they  felt 
repaid  for  a  little  extra  fatigue.  In  the  next  month 
or  two  they  were  to  get  at  the  hearts  and  lives  of 
their  neighbors  in  an  intimate  way  hitherto  un 
dreamed  of  by  either  side. 


XXII 
SISTER  RACHEL 

THE  years  that  had  been  full  of  excitement  to 
the  younger  people  had  moved  so  tranquilly 
for  Miss  Rachel  Waugh,  that  they  had  left 
slight  marks  upon  her  placid  face  or  comfortably  com 
pact  and  ample  figure.  She  had  grown  stouter,  and 
squarer,  but  the  touch  of  time  had  made  her  younger 
rather  than  older.  Though  tortures  would  not  have 
wrung  the  admission  from  her  lips,  the  relief  she 
had  insensibly  known  when  she  no  longer  had  the 
responsibility  of  looking  after  her  brother,  in  a 
material  or  spiritual  way,  had  been  immense,  Donald 
being  what  plain  people  consider  a  "handful."  Miss 
Rachel  passed  him  on  to  his  wife  at  just  the  right 
moment  for  her  own  peace. 

Busy  and  practical  to  the  last  degree,  the  spinster 
had  kept  a  watchful  eye  on  the  proceedings  in  Old 
Field  Hollow  and  the  management  of  the  Hall  of  Rest. 
She  was  as  energetic  as  of  old,  and  had  a  good  share 
of  the  family  shrewdness,  and  it  struck  her  that  the 
Hall  was  being  carried  on  with  quite  too  much  senti 
ment  and  under  too  many  different  advisers.  Until 
the  night  of  the  fire,  she  refrained  from  interference, 
waiting  till  there  should  be  a  good  opportunity  for 
her  to  offer  counsel.  The  morning  after  that  event, 
she  was  early  on  the  scene.  In  short  skirt,  and  stout 
boots,  with  a  trimly  small  bonnet  and  a  rough  cloth 

190 


SISTER  RACHEL  191 

jacket,  she  was  a  capable  figure  equipped  for  action, 
and  as  she  stepped  into  the  office  and  extended  her 
hand,  her  brother  grasped  it  gratefully.  The  habit 
of  going  to  Rachel  in  emergencies  had  been  over 
laid  by  many  later  habits,  but  it  was  not  dead,  only 
dormant,  and  sprang  to  new  life  at  once. 

"Well,  here's  a  pretty  state  of  affairs!  "  exclaimed 
Miss  Waugh.  "Of  course  you  have  telegraphed  for 
tents,  as  these  families  must  be  settled  somehow, 
while  you  are  building  new  cottages  for  them,  or 
making  some  provision  that  can  be  permanent." 

"I  will  send  for  tents  at  once,"  he  said.  "That's 
a  good  idea.  How  like  you  to  think  of  it,  Rachel! " 

"  A  woman  has  to  think  of  the  easiest  thing,"  re 
marked  Rachel  complacently.  "I  presume  all  the 
burnt-out  ones  are  camping,  and  rampaging,  over 
here  in  your  beautiful  Hall  of  Rest.  Hall  of  fiddle 
sticks,  I've  called  it  all  along,  but  there's  no  reason  in 
having  it  ruined,  now  that  you've  got  it,  is  there, 
brother?" 

A  broad  smile  lit  up  Donald's  rugged  face. 

"Since  there's  nobody  by,  sister  Rachel,  I'll  con 
fess  that  I  have  thus  far  found  that  same  Hall  a  some 
what  expensive  plaything,  and  have  been  gradually 
coming  round  to  an  intention  of  turning  it  into  a 
storage  warehouse.  What  do  you  think  ?  Would 
not  that  be  a  good  plan  ?" 

"  Wouldn't  that  be  a  little  like  running  away  from 
a  field  that  was  too  hard  for  you  ?  Old  Field  Hollow 
at  that!  No,  Donald,  don't  give  it  up  now  you  have 
it.  I'll  go  over  and  take  command  while  the  place  is 
in  such  confusion.  What  is  wanted  all  the  time  is  a 
head.  More  than  ever  just  now  when  this  terrible 


192  ELEANOR   LEE 

thing  has  demoralized  the  poor  women  and  disheart 
ened  their  husbands.  I'll  see  what  can  be  done." 

The  stout,  efficient  gray-haired  woman  marched  to 
the  rescue  not  a  moment  too  soon. 

"Here  comes  Betsey  Trot  wood,"  cried  Kathleen, 
clapping  her  hands.  Eleanor  and  Mattie  were  equally 
jubilant.  Behind  her  back,  Miss  Rachel  Waugh  was 
often  spoken  of  as  Betsey  Trotwood,  and  if  Dickens 
had  ever  met  her,  she  might  well  have  posed  for  that 
delightful  character.  She  was  as  kind  of  heart,  as 
imperious  in  action,  as  sensible,  and  as  capable,  as 
her  English  prototype. 

Nobody  could  have  described  the  process,  but  from 
the  instant  of  Miss  Rachel's  arrival,  the  misery  of  the 
Hollow  was  alleviated.  As  when  a  household  has 
been  at  odds,  because  there  is  no  one  to  take  control, 
and  quiet  is  resumed  when  the  mother  comes  home, 
so  it  was  with  the  Hall  of  Rest,  in  a  very  little  while 
after  Miss  Rachel  seized  the  sceptre.  Dinners  for 
every  one  were  prepared  in  the  kitchen,  yet  the  house 
that  was  seething  and  tumultuous,  became  calm  and 
still.  Half  a  dozen  women  were  set  to  work  at  clean 
ing  and  scrubbing.  The  children  were  packed  off  to 
school.  By  nightfall,  every  small  family  among  the 
shelterless,  was  ensconced  in  a  tent,  or  several  fam 
ilies  were  grouped  in  a  larger  one,  and  quiet  reigned. 
Men  and  women  obeyed  Miss  Waugh,  some  because 
of  a  loyalty  that  had  grown  with  their  growth:  oth 
ers  because  their  neighbors  did.  Among  the  newer 
employees,  those  who  had  come  from  foreign  lands, 
there  was  nothing  of  the  feudal  relation  towards  the 
Waughs,  which  the  older  people  knew,  and  owned. 
But  every  one  did  what  Rachel  Waugh  bade,  and  be- 


SISTER   RACHEL  193 

Jore  many  days  there  was  the  sound  of  axe  and  ham 
mer  in  the  Hollow,  and  the  new  buildings  shot  up 
with  magical  speed.  Work  was  plenty:  there  ap 
peared  no  cause  for  complaint,  and  Donald  took  three 
months  for  a  trip  to  Europe,  with  Mattie  and  Lois. 
Meanwhile  Miss  Rachel  moved  bag  and  baggage  into 
the  Hall  of  Rest,  and  all  by  herself  established  a  settle 
ment. 

From  the  hour  that  she  took  control,  a  more  hu 
man  sentirpent  entered  the  doors.  She  had  no  par 
ticular  policy  except  that  she  was  a  notable  house 
keeper,  and  one  before  whom  dirt  and  cobwebs  fled. 
Her  floors  at  home  were  speckless,  and  her  table 
beautifully  served,  and  she  brought  precisely  the  same 
immaculate  purity  into  the  Hall  that  pervaded  her 
domains  at  home.  The  women  came  to  her  with 
their  troubles,  and  she  had  time  to  hear  every  story, 
and  homely  wit  to  sort  out  the  grains  of  wheat  from 
the  chaff,  and  make  the  tangled  skeins  smooth.  One 
of  the  first  things  she  did  was  to  bid  the  women 
bring  their  mending  to  the  Hall,  so  that  they  might 
have  a  sociable  hour  while  doing  it.  As  she  very  well 
knew,  mending  was  not  their  custom.  The  poorer 
people  are,  as  a  rule  the  more  they  throw  away. 
Miss  Rachel,  tramping  around  in  her  cheery  matter- 
of-fact  style,  with  her  sharp  eyes  that  saw  without 
seeming  to  see,  her  downright  positive  common  sense, 
and  her  good-humored  candor,  was  a  woman  whom 
the  Hollow  understood. 

When  she  saw  Gipsey  Mary  tired  out  after  a  day  at 
the  loom,  unwilling  to  sit  down  and  poke  her  needle 
in  and  out  of  a  pair  of  worn  stockings  by  the  light  of 
a  kerosene  lamp,  she  did  not  wonder  and  comment. 


194  ELEANOR   LEE 

"I'd  hate  it  myself,"  she  said.  But  she  so  influ 
enced  Donald,  that  when  he  returned  from  across  the 
•water  she  induced  him  to  give  his  work-people  a  Sat 
urday  half  holiday  all  the  year  round.  This  time  in 
their  hands,  for  their  own,  made  the  women  eager  to 
learn  and  do  many  housewifely  things  besides  mend 
ing  and  darning,  and  Miss  Rachel  was  a  good  teacher 
and  leader.  She  claimed  that  they  spent  Sunday 
more  quietly  and  that  there  was  less  rioting  and 
drunkenness  after  the  Saturday  half-holiday  was 
granted  than  before.  Miss  Rachel  said  little  about 
the  saloons,  but  she  taught  the  Old  Field  wives  to 
cook  well  and  make  good  coffee,  and  the  homes  be 
gan  to  present  counter  attractions,  while  the  young 
men  were  soon  not  averse  to  spending  their  evenings, 
with  the  girls,  in  the  Hall  of  Rest. 

"But  sister  Rachel,"  expostulated  Mrs.  Waugh, 
"  you  have  hardly  any  educational  work  worth  speak 
ing  of.  No  literature  classes,  no  advanced  English 
or  mathematics,  none  of  the  accomplishments  are 
taught  that  we  hoped  for,  when  we  erected  this 
place." 

"Does  not  the  restaurant  pay  its  own  expenses?" 
conclusively  replied  Miss  Rachel. 

"Indeed  it  does,  and  more." 

"Are  not  the  houses  and  the  streets  cleaner  ?  Is 
not  the  health  rate  higher?  Goodness,  child,  what 
do  you  want  ?  I'm  repenting  in  sackcloth  over  the 
years  1  might  have  been  doing  good  here  in  the  fac 
tories,  but  I  never  knew  how.  I'd  repent  in  ashes 
too,  if  they  were  not  so  powdery  and  dusty." 

"  But  you  have  so  few  rules.  I've  been  looking  for 
those  I  had  printed  for  the  conduct  of  the  girls,  and 


SISTER  RACHEL  195 

Jiung  up  in  the  parlor.  Donald  thought  so  well  of 
them." 

"Well,  Mattie,  if  you  must  know,  I  trudged  up 
to  the  attic  with  those  rules  and  stuck  them  in  the 
darkest  corner.  All  that  1  want  is  to  have  a  clean 
place  here  for  a  pattern,  a  happy  place  for  sunshine, 
a  quiet  place  where  tired  girls  may  rest,  a  safe  place 
where  young  people  may  do  their  courting,  and  a 
Christian  place  where  we  may  all  praise  God.  You 
see,  dearie,  I'm  living  here.  You  only  stop  in  every 
little  while." 

"Bless  your  heart,  sister  Rachel.  I  believe  you 
have  discovered  the  secret  of  true  charity." 

"  This  isn't  charity,  Mattie,     It's  sisterhood." 


XXIII 
A  FRIGHT 

EVEN   Miss  Rachel's  optimism   was  destined 
to  be  put  to  a  very  severe  test  before  long. 
When    everything  was    moving   like  clock 
work,  when  causes  of  disturbance  were  eliminated 
and  agitation  had  given  way  to  apparent  content 
ment,  without  any  warning  to  speak  of,  the  mill- 
hands  went  on  strike. 

The  shrinkage  in  values,  following  a  period  of  over 
production,  made  necessary  for  the  manufacturer's 
protection  either  a  diminuation  in  the  number  of 
hours  of  labor,  or  a  cut  in  wages.  It  was  the 
inevitable  swing  of  the  pendulum  which  may  be 
counted  on  in  every  commercial  country,  since  com 
merce  has  its  ebbs  as  well  as  its  floods.  Not  all  Miss 
Rachel's  axioms,  not  all  her  good  examples  had 
sufficed  to  teach  the  working  people  economy.  They 
were  children  in  the  kindergarten  yet,  for  all  knowl 
edge  of  saving  or  desire  to  save,  so  when  they  were 
threatened  with  a  small  reduction  of  income,  they 
were  angry  and  appalled.  Those  who  belonged  to 
the  ancient  order  of  the  wise  virgins,  and  who  appre 
ciated  the  situation  and  had  no  grievances  of  their 
own,  those  who  had  the  wisdom  to  prefer  going 
on  with  their  work,  rather  than  to  sit  down  in  idle 
ness,  were  overruled  by  their  labor  unions,  and  had 
no  choice.  They  presented  their  alternative  to 

196 


A  FRIGHT  197 

Donald  Waugh,  either  a  shorter  day  at  the  same  rate 
of  payment,  or  a  uniform  scale  for  all  workers,  the 
good  and  the  poor  alike,  or  else  they  would  cease 
work  altogether. 

The  result  was  that  he  shut  down  the  mills. 

Then  ensued  a  time  of  dreary  inaction,  and  at  last 
of  dumb  suffering  for  every  one  concerned.  One  by 
one,  the  little  comforts  and  luxuries  disappeared  from 
the  little  homes.  The  cabinet  organ,  the  wife's  plush 
coat  and  gold  earrings,  the  pictures,  the  prized  china 
and  plated  ware,  went  to  the  pawn-shop.  The  strike 
was  wide-spread,  and  the  relief  funds  of  the  organ 
ization  were  terribly  taxed.  Donald,  incredulous  at 
first  that  his  men  could  treat  him  thus,  then  indignant 
to  the  point  of  a  white  heat  of  anger,  stayed  at  home, 
petted  Lois,  and  took  to  reading  American  history. 
Every  day  he  rode  or  walked  through  the  mill  dis 
trict,  fearless  of  attack,  though  warned  of  danger. 
His  bravery  oftener  than  he  knew  was  his  shield, 
and  when  it  was  learned  that  he  refused  to  call  on 
police  or  soldiers  for  aid,  the  better  element  among 
the  men  patrolled  the  neighborhood  of  his  mills,  and 
unknown  to  him,  watched  over  his  house  on  the  Hill 
in  the  dead  of  night.  They  might  defy  Donald  and 
refuse  to  serve  him,  but  meanwhile  no  miscreant 
should  work  harm  to  him  or  his. 

Eventually  the  strike  was  peacefully  ended,  as 
strikes  frequently  are,  in  a  compromise,  the  em 
ployer's  interests  little  hurt,  his  chief  loss  a  great 
inconvenience,  and  the  employees,  much  the  worse 
in  pocket  and  peace  of  mind,  for  what  they  had  gone 
through. 

The    only  episode  that  threatened  to  become  a 


198  ELEANOR   LEE 

tragedy  occurred  the  day  that  little  Lois  Waugh  was 
lost. 

With  her  big  blue  eyes,  her  crown  of  clustering 
curls,  red  as  spun  gold,  and  her  downright  childish 
assertiveness,  the  little  maid  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
visiting  the  mills  with  her  father  whenever  she  chose. 
When  the  strike  was  announced,  Mattie  thought  it 
wise  to  keep  Lois  at  home,  but  Donald  insisted  that 
there  was  absolutely  no  danger  to  any  of  his  family, 
and  picking  up  his  daughter  took  her  in  the  buggy 
beside  him  whenever  he  liked  and  wherever  he  went. 

One  day  when  he  stopped  longer  than  usual  inside 
the  mill,  Lois  clambered  down  from  her  seat,  and 
went  off  in  search  of  her  Aunt  Rachel.  Her  little 
white  frock  and  frilled  sunbonnet  were  seen  as  she 
slid  like  a  stray  sunbeam  down  the  street,  but  no 
body  saw  her  go  into  the  Hall;  in  fact  when  her 
father  called  her,  and  sent  people  here  and  there  to 
look  for  her,  there  was  no  Lois;  the  earth  might 
have  opened  her  mouth  and  hidden  the  child  therein 
for  all  that  could  be  found  of  the  little  one. 

Donald  was  composed  on  the  outside,  but  frantic 
within.  A  hundred  nameless  fears  buzzed  and 
hummed  in  his  ear;  a  keen  regret  pierced  him  with  a 
dart.  Why  had  he  exposed  Lois  to  an  instant's  peril, 
in  times  when  some  irresponsible  person  might  loiter 
around,  or  some  venomous  nature  revenge  himself  on 
the  baby's  father  by  carrying  her  off  or  keeping  her 
concealed  ?  Visions  of  kidnappers  floated  through  his 
brain.  He  sent  messengers  in  every  direction,  and 
rushed  to  the  hall  to  consult  Miss  Rachel.  Coming 
down  the  steps  he  met  Eleanor,  Kathleen  Lee  and 
Max  Pomfret. 


A  FRIGHT  199 

,  "What  on  earth  is  the  matter,  Mr.  Waugh  ?"  ex 
claimed  the  last. 

"  Matter  enough.     I've  lost  Lois." 

"  She  can't  possibly  be  lost,"  said  Eleanor.  "  She's 
probably  playing  in  somebody's  back  yard.  The 
children  here  are  wild  over  Lois." 

"Where  did  you  leave  her,  Mr.  Waugh  ?"  inquired 
Kathleen. 

"In  the  buggy." 

"Could  she  scramble  out ? " 

"With  perfect  ease." 

"  Did  anybody  see  her  ?  " 

"  I  seed  her,"  piped  up  a  ragged  little  boy.  "She's 
gone  wid  my  sister,  to  play  house  down  by  the 
wiver.  Amy's  dot  a  house  wight  on  the  adge." 

Donald  and  Max  rushed  across  lots  to  the  bank  of 
the  mill  stream,  and  never  had  two  gentlemen  made 
better  time.  There,  playing  on  the  edge  of  the 
stream,  her  face  beaming,  her  feet  wet,  her  white 
frock  soiled  and  tumbled,  was  Lois  Waugh,  perfectly 
happy,  she  and  wee  Amy  Kirby,  in  an  earthly  Para 
dise,  with  a  house  made  of  stones  and  pebbles,  sticks 
dressed  up  with  rags  for  dolls,  and  bits  of  cracker  of 
which  to  make  a  feast. 

"Don't  scold  her,  Mr.  Waugh!"  said  Max.  "The 
child's  had  a  half  hour  of  heaven.  You  pick  her  up, 
and  I'll  take  charge  of  Amy  Kirby." 

"Amy,"  he  asked,  "does  your  mother  know  you 
play  here  ?  This  is  not  a  nice  place  for  a  little  girl 
like  you  to  play  in.  The  big  water  might  splash  up 
and  drag  you  in  and  drown  you." 

"  Mammy  doesn't  care  where  I  play,  if  I'se  a  dood 
dirl,"  answered  Amy  with  conviction.  Nor  indeed 


200  ELEANOR   LEE 

did  hard  working  Mrs.  Kirby,  who  was  nursing  her 
ninth  child,  give  herself  a  particle  of  concern,  though 
she  was  sorry  that  Mr.  Waugh  had  been  frightened. 

"You  never  hadn't  ought,  Amy,"  she  said,  "to 
carry  off  a  little  girl  like  that  to  play  with  you." 

"Why,  mammy,  she  was  awful  nice,"  explained 
Amy. 

Nothing  had  happened,  but  Donald  left  Lois  a*, 
home  for  some  days  after,  and  she  felt  that  she  was  in 
disgrace.  The  little  thing  pined,  for  she  had  been  as 
her  father's  shadow.  One  morning  he  brought  Amy 
Kirby  home  with  him  in  the  buggy,  and  Lois  intro 
duced  her  to  such  a  company  of  dolls  and  to  so  much 
grandeur  that  Amy  was  bewildered.  But  when  she 
was  taken  home,  with  a  great  doll  in  her  arms,  that 
could  open  and  shut  its  eyes,  and  "do  stunts,. 
mammy,  lots  of  stunts,"  she  also  had  her  hour  of 
perfect  bliss. 

Rich  or  poor,  children  require  little  to  make  for 
them  a  beatific  world.  To  them  in  their  sweet  free 
dom  from  care  belongs,  almost  to  them  only  here  be 
low,  the  real  kingdom  of  heaven.  Did  not  our 
blessed  Lord  tell  us  that  this  is  their  inheritance  ? 

In  later  years,  the  conditions  in  the  Waugh  mills 
were  made  as  agreeable  as  possible  for  the  women 
operatives,  and  parents  were  not  able  to  evade  the 
legal  enactments  against  child  labor.  The  poor  often 
swear  falsely  as  to  the  age  of  a  child,  moved  thereto 
by  their  own  desire  for  the  child's  earnings,  and  by 
the  pleadings  of  the  child's  self.  The  little  girl  of 
twelve  or  thirteen  sees  her  sister  bring  home  a  weekly 
wage,  and  envies  her.  The  mother  glibly  swears, 
and  carries  the  false  oath  lightly  on  an  untrained  con- 


A  FRIGHT  201 

science.  But  the  young  girls  need  every  instant  of 
their  hurrying  childhood  for  growth  and  health,  and 
in  the  Waugh  mills  their  welfare  in  this  and  other 
regards  was  carefully  conserved.  The  labor  of  the 
loom  cannot  be  greatly  softened.  Long  standing  on 
the  feet,  alert  vigilance,  and  toil  in  the  incessant  din 
of  machinery  are  inevitable.  But  the  father  of  little 
Lois  did  what  he  could  to  brighten  the  lives  of  his 
work  people,  and  especially  of  the  women  and  girls. 


XXIV 
FRIENDS  TOGETHER 

THE  burdens  of  many  hearts  and  homes  were 
laid  on  the  big  heart  of  Rachel  Waugh  in 
these  troubled  times.     Everybody  came  to 
her  for  counsel  or  for  sympathy,  or  simply  for  the 
relief  of  telling  a  grievance.     She  was  the  escape 
valve  which  saved  a  good  deal  of  excitement  from 
doing  permanent  damage.     Her  old  friends  hardly 
knew  her  as  she  threw  herself  into  the  tide  of  affairs 
at  Old  Field  Hollow. 

"  Betsey  Trotwood,  you  are  a  trump,"  her  brother 
said,  patting  her  substantial  shoulder. 

"I  can't  wait  for  your  honeyed  flattery,  Donald," 
she  answered.  "  I've  too  many  of  your  people  to 
look  after.  It's  something  though  that  you  don't 
think  I'm  doing  more  harm  than  good.  I'm  running 
a  club  here  in  opposition  to  the  saloon,  and,  have  you 
noticed,  or  haven't  you,  that  at  least  one  of  those  in 
fernal  places  has  shut  up  its  doors  ?" 

"I  have  noticed  it,  Rachel,  and  I  rejoice.  This 
work  of  yours  here  has  not  been  done  in  vain." 

"  You  see,  Donald,  it's  not  the  drink  only  that  leads 
men  to  the  saloon.  It's  the  good-fellowship,  the 
sociability,  the  warmth,  the  light.  The  churches  are 
beginning  to  discover  that  men  have  bodies  as  well 
as  souls  to  be  saved,  and  that  is  one  of  the  principles 
we  are  working  on  here,  in  our  little  way.  Come  in 

202 


FRIENDS  TOGETHER       203 

and  then,  brother,  man  to  man,  and  be  friends 
with  us,  and  you'll  see  what  good  it  will  do." 

"Man  to  man  ?"  He  laughed  as  if  she  had  made 
a  slip.  She  laughed  too,  but  she  did  not  correct  her 
error.  She  had  meant  what  she  said.  Now  she  had 
to  leave  him  for  another  who  wanted  her. 

It  was  no  less  a  person  than  the  Englishwoman  named 
familiarly  Gypsey  Mary.  Her  face  was  dark,  and  she 
waited  for  Miss  Rachel,  with  an  air  of  hesitancy,  odd 
in  one  so  assertive.  In  the  Hollow  she  was  a  leader, 
a  woman  always  in  great  demand.  She  was  one  of 
those  characters,  who,  born  to  the  purple,  would 
have  managed  large  affairs  with  accuracy  and  dis 
patch,  and  knowing  how  to  choose  her  helpers  and 
lieutenants,  would  have  enjoyed  planning  and  pro 
jecting,  and  have  reaped  the  advantage  of  others' 
labor.  Born  with  the  horn  and  not  the  silver  spoon  in 
her  mouth,  used  to  poverty  and  hard  work  all  her 
days,  she  was  still  a  woman  of  resource,  and  her  one 
soft  spot,  her  love  for  her  daughter,  was  never  more 
in  evidence  than  when  the  mills  shut  down  and  she 
had  to  find  something  to  do  at  once. 

"Why  is  it  that  you  have  nothing  saved?"  in 
quired  Miss  Rachel,  when  Mary  came  to  her  with  an 
inquiry  and  a  request. 

"Look  what  I  have  done  for  Pet,"  she  replied,  a 
comprehensive  wave  of  her  hand  towards  the  slim 
girl  who  was  bending  over  a  book  in  the  library  of 
the  hall,  showing  whom  she  meant.  Gypsey  Mary 
seldom  spoke  of  her  one  child  by  any  other  name 
than  this  tender  epithet  of  Pet,  and  gradually  the 
name  had  become  common  property.  The  young 
girl  was  very  pretty,  very  gentle-mannered  and  lov- 


204  ELEANOR    LEE 

able,  a  sweet  clinging  child,  and  everybody  called  her 
Pet. 

Pet  was  dressed  in  a  simple,  well-fitting  gown  of 
dark  blue  worsted,  with  white  at  her  neck  and  wrists. 
The  ribbon  she  wore  frilled  at  her  throat  was  an 
exact  reproduction  of  those  Mrs.  Waugh  and  Mrs. 
Osbourn  and  the  ladies  who  came  to  the  Rest  Hall, 
wore  just  then.  It  even  had  a  delicate  edging  of  lace, 
as  had  the  ruffles  in  her  sleeves.  She  was  as  dainty 
and  delicate  in  her  attire  as  any  girl  could  possibly 
be.  Her  hands  were  white,  her  fingers  tapering,  her 
air  that  of  a  young  woman  who  was  well  cared  for 
and  who  had  a  life  of  ease. 

"Pet  does  not  work  in  the  mills  at  any  time,"  said 
Miss  Rachel.  "  What  are  you  expecting  to  make  of 
her,  Mary  ?  " 

"Oh,  she's  young  yet,"  said  the  mother.  "She 
may  learn  fine  sewing  if  she  likes  and  be  a  dress 
maker,  or  maybe  she  will  get  a  place  in  the  schools. 
Pet's  very  quick  at  learning." 

"  Mrs.  Waugh  might  find  her  something  to  do  in 
her  home,  now  that  you  are  laid  off  and  in  such  need 
of  money.  Pet  would  soon  acquire  the  accomplish 
ments  needed  by  a  lady's  maid,  and  she  would  then 
be  sure  of  good  wages,  good  food,  and  a  safe  home. 
I  know  that  Mrs.  Waugh  or  Mrs.  Osbourn  would 
willingly  take  your  daughter  and  give  her  excellent 
training." 

Miss  Rachel  was  altogether  unprepared  for  the 
flush  of  anger  that  burned  hotly  on  the  cheek  of  the 
indignant  mother.  She  could  not  speak  for  vexation, 
and  her  breath  came  chokingly.  Hot  tears  rushed  to 
the  black  eyes. 


FRIENDS  rOGETHER       205 

"  Would  you  expect  me  to  let  that  child  go  to 
service?"  she  exclaimed  with  scorn.  "Why,  she 
might  have  done  that  if  we'd  stayed  in  the  old 
country.  Not  here  where  every  one  is  free,  and  all 
are  equals.  I  look  higher  by  far  than  that  for  my 
only  daughter." 

Miss  Rachel  said  no  more.  She  opened  the  little 
drawer  where  she  kept  her  money,  took  out  a  bill 
and  a  handful  of  silver,  and  gave  the  whole  to  Mary. 

"  After  all  she's  your  child,  and  a  very  dear  girl," 
she  said.  "  Only  don't  spoil  her  by  foolish  notions. 
It  does  a  girl  like  that  no  good  whatever  to  see  her 
mother  toiling  like  a  slave,  while  she  lives  in  idleness. 
At  the  best  of  things,  your  pet  will  probably  be  the 
wife  of  a  poor  man.  Do  not  unfit  her  to  make  a  poor 
man's  home  happy." 

Gypsey  Mary  tossed  her  head.  She  had  her  own 
dreams.  Among  them  was  one  of  her  daughter  with 
rings  on  her  fingers  and  diamonds  on  her  corsage, 
robed  in  shimmering  silks,  living  in  splendor,  marry 
ing  no  poor  man,  but  some  rich  man's  son.  Oftener 
than  the  unobservant  fancy,  this  picture  of  wealth 
and  prosperity  in  the  future,  fills  the  whole  fore 
ground  of  a  mother's  imagination,  when  she  is  her 
self  overborne  by  toil  and  poverty,  and  hemmed  in 
by  narrowing  limitations.  Around  the  figure  of  her 
pretty  young  daughter,  she  weaves  the  possible  en 
chantments  of  many  a  fairy-tale.  If  the  daughter 
grow  selfish  and  vain  and  useless  under  the  con 
ditions  of  indulgence  which  so  foolish  a  mother  con 
siders  appropriate  it  is  only  what  may  be  expected. 

With  the  money  Miss  Rachel  lent  her,  Mary  stocked 
a  basket,  filling  it  with  pins,  needles,  thread,  soap, 


206  ELEANOR   LEE 

and  various  small  wares,  and  thenceforth,  day  in  and 
day  out,  she  took  the  road,  heedless  of  weather  or 
wind  or  wet.  She  appeared  at  back  doors  and  area 
doors,  sold  her  goods  to  the  maids  in  great  houses, 
or  to  the  women  who  themselves  kept  house,  in 
more  modest  neighborhoods,  and  every  Saturday 
night  she  paid  an  installment  on  her  debt  to  Miss 
Rachel.  Before  many  weeks  the  route  she  had  es 
tablished  became  a  paying  one,  and  she  had  built  up  a 
decent  trade,  her  daughter  doing  the  work  at  home, 
and  having  a  supper  ready  for  her  when  she  came  in 
weary  at  nightfall.  The  little  home  did  not  lack  an 
atmosphere  of  comfort,  and  nothing  went  from  it  to 
the  pawn-shop.  When  Mary  could  not  sell  her  soap 
or  her  pins,  she  told  fortunes,  promising  this  con 
fiding  lass  a  husband,  and  the  next  a  pot  of  gold,  and 
the  next  a  long  journey,  and  leaving  them  half  con 
vinced  that  she  really  could  peer  into  that  hidden 
future  which  so  mysteriously  beckons  those  who  are 
not  altogether  satisfied  with  the  present. 

The  women  of  the  Hollow  meanwhile  stood  gos- 
sipping  idly  in  their  doorways,  or  sat  disconsolately 
beside  their  cold  hearths.  Cupboards  were  bare. 
Children  clamored  for  food.  Tables  that  had  been 
spread  with  smoking  breakfasts  and  suppers  were  no 
longer  set.  One  by  one  the  most  cherished  posses 
sions,  the  cabinet  organs,  the  lace  curtains,  and  the 
sewing  machines,  the  gilt  clocks,  and  the  babies' 
cradles,  found  their  niche  in  the  limbo  behind  the 
three  golden  balls.  When  the  wife  pawned  her 
wedding  ring  and  the  man  his  watch,  things  were  at 
a  low  ebb.  The  destruction  of  the  poor  is  their  pov 
erty.  It  is  also  their  wastefulness.  When  a  little 


FRIENDS  TOGETHER       207 

'money  did  come  into  pinched  hands,  it  was  seldom 
wisely  expended,  and  Miss  Rachel,  moving  about  as 
almoner,  had  many  and  many  a  bitter  heartache,  be 
fore  the  estrangement  was  over,  and  her  brother's 
mills  resumed  their  activity.  The  day  did  come,  but 
her  hair  grew  whiter  as  she  watched  for  it. 

One  night  a  knock  roused  her  in  the  small  hours. 
She  went  to  her  window,  raising  it  quickly. 

"Who  is  there?" 

"  For  Christ's  sake,  Miss  Rachel,  come  to  our  house. 
Our  little  Jacky  is  dying." 

"  It's  you,  John  Elkins  ?  " 

"Yes,  Miss  Rachel." 

"Wait  for  me.     I'll  be  with  you  directly." 

The  lady  was  ready  very  soon.  She  slipped  on  a 
thick  jacket  and  tied  a  hood  over  her  head.  Snatch 
ing  several  vials  from  her  medicine  chest,  and  taking 
a  loaf  from  the  pantry,  she  went  with  John  Elkins. 
Jacky  might  or  might  not  be  dying,  but  the  other 
children  would  be  hungry  when  they  woke  in  the 
morning. 

She  tramped  along  through  the  dark  street,  past 
the  mill-stream  lying  black  and  sluggish  in  the  mid 
night  gloom,  that  was  broken  at  intervals  by  the 
gleam  of  a  lamp  flaring  wildly  in  the  wind  that  was 
rising  and  sobbing  fitfully.  John  Elkins  tramped  at 
her  side.  She  knew  him  well,  a  man  of  few  words, 
and  very  faithful.  Not  one  who  had  wanted  to  join 
the  disaffected,  but  one  of  the  many  who  had  been 
compelled  to  do  so  by  the  rules  of  the  organization, 
and  the  dictum  of  the  walking  delegate. 

Once  he  sighed,  a  sigh  that  was  like  a  groan  of  de 
spair.  It  was  when  they  came  in  sight  of  his  little 


208  ELEANOR  LEE 

dwelling  where  a  candle  burned  in  an  upper  window, 
and  the  shadow  of  a  woman  was  reflected  on  the 
white  curtain. 

"You've  had  the  doctor?"  said  Miss  Rachd. 

"She's  there  now!"  answered  the  man  gruffly. 
Miss  Rachel  noted  the  pronoun  with  wonder  and 
gratitude. 

"Old  Dr.  Redding  couldn't  come.  He's  ill  him 
self.  His  son,  the  young  doctor's  off  somewhere  on 
a  jaunt.  Old  man  Redding  sent  this  lady.  But  she 
knows  her  business.  She  sent  me  after  you.  She 
doesn't  think  Jacky  can  pull  through." 

"God  can  save  him,  John."  Miss  Rachel's  tone 
was  confident. 

They  entered  the  house  and  mounted  the  stairs. 
As  Miss  Rachel  crossed  the  sill,  she  observed  that  the 
windows  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  bedroom  were 
wide  open,  though  the  night  was  cold.  Women 
doctors  are  familiar  figures  now,  but  they  were 
novelties  then,  and  still  had  to  conquer  the  prejudice 
and  reluctance  of  many  people,  rich  and  poor,  edu 
cated  and  illiterate  alike. 

Jacky  Elkins  was  indeed  making  a  brave  fight  for 
his  life.  He  was  stretched  stark  naked  on  a  bare  pine 
table,  and  the  doctor  was  raising  his  little  thin  arms 
and  generally  acting  as  she  might  have  done  with  a 
drowning  person  in  the  effort  to  restore  his  waning 
breath  and  strength.  An  odor  of  strong  coffee  filled 
the  house.  The  doctor  forced  a  teaspoonful  between 
the  white  lips  of  the  child. 

As  Miss  Rachel's  eyes  met  hers,  the  glance  told 
of  failure,  and  Dr.  Sarah  Benson  lowered  her  head 
and  clasped  her  hands  as  if  in  dumb  resignation. 


FRIENDS  TOGETHER       209 

The  father,  statuesque  in  grief,  folded  his  arms,  and 
stood  at  the  foot  of  the  table.  The  mother,  who  had 
been  rocking  to  and  fro  and  weeping,  suddenly 
sprang  to  her  feet,  in  desperation,  with  the  look  of  a 
caged  animal  that  would  break  its  bars  if  it  could. 

"You  shan't  torture  my  boy  any  longer,  if  you 
can't  save  him!  Give  him  to  me.  Let  me  dress 
him.  You've  killed  him,  keeping  him  naked  in  this 
cold  room! " 

"Sophy,"  said  Miss  Rachel,  "sit  down,  my  dear. 
Let  me  hold  Jacky!  " 

She  caught  up  a  gray  blanket  shawl  that  was  lying 
on  the  foot  of  the  bed,  an  old  shawl  that  Sophy 
Elkins  had  used  for  a  wrap  by  day  and  a  coverlet  by 
night  ever  since  her  marriage  ten  years  ago. 

Turning  to  the  doctor,  Miss  Rachel  addressed  her. 

"Is  there  nothing  more  to  be  tried  ?" 

"Nothing  more.  It's  baby  pneumonia.  The  child's 
past  human  saving.  I  was  called  in  too  late." 

"The  child's  not  past  God's  saving,"  said  Miss 
Rachel,  wrapping  him  in  the  old  gray  shawl,  and 
holding  him  in  her  stout  old  arms. 

She  stepped  down-stairs  and  out  the  front  door. 
The  father,  the  mother,  and  the  doctor  followed  her. 
Out  of  doors  into  the  fresh,  pure,  strong  wind,  blow 
ing  cold  and  clear  from  the  north.  Up  and  down,  up 
and  down,  up  and  down,  tirelessly,  like  a  sentry  on 
duty,  paced  the  sturdy  woman,  holding  the  child 
close  to  her  breast,  wrapped  in  the  old  gray  shawl. 
After  awhile  she  paused,  and  beckoned  to  the  group 
on  the  threshold. 

"  Is  there  any  change  ?" 

The    doctor  peeped  at  the  small  wizened  face, 


210  ELEANOR   LEE 

peeped,  surprise  and  gladness  breaking  like  a  sun 
rise  in  her  own  countenance. 

"Miss  Rachel,  you  have  wrought  a  miracle !"  she 
said. 

"The  child  is  better?" 

"The  child  will  live!" 

"Thank  God!/"  ejaculated  Miss  Rachel,  giving  the 
boy  to  his  father,  who  had  followed  her  in  a  tireless 
tramp  up  and  down. 

"  It  is  God's  miracle,"  said  Miss  Rachel,  as  she  sank 
down  exhausted  in  Sophy  Elkins'  Boston  rocker,  while 
Sophy  brought  her  a  slice  of  the  bread  she  had  laid 
down  when  she  came  in,  and  poured  her  a  cup  of 
coffee. 

Jacky  needed  careful  nursing  and  it  was  a  week  or 
more  before  he  was  able  to  hold  up  his  head,  but  he 
was  saved.  And  before  night,  the  fame  of  Miss 
Rachel's  deed  was  told  in  every  home  in  the  Hollow, 
and  every  man  there  was  her  sworn  knight  and  sol 
dier,  and  every  woman  loved  her  as  a  sister. 

Miss  Rachel  was  no  sentimental  philanthropist. 
She  was  a  very  practical  woman,  who  abhorred  dirt 
and  shiftlessness,  and  did  her  duty  in  that  state  where 
God  had  been  pleased  to  call  her.  It  was  character 
istic  of  her  to  forget  what  she  did  in  the  line  of  self- 
denial  and  to  make  light  of  every  sacrifice.  But  for 
once  she  was  not  permitted  to  escape  the  reward  of 
much  outspoken  gratitude,  and  her  brother,  seldom 
given  to  much  expansiveness,  when  next  he  met  her, 
fairly  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"You  are  splendid,"  he  said.  "You  are  like  our 
mother.  Good  women  like  you,  Rachel,  with  sense 
and  knowledge,  are  worth  more  than  armies.  When 


-peace  comes  after  these  disturbances,  it  will  be  to 
your  credit.  There !  "  And  he  kissed  her,  as  a  brother 
might,  with  a  hug  such  as  he  had  not  given  her  in 
twenty  years. 

"Oh,  what  a  bear  you  are,  Donald!"  she  remon 
strated,  shaking  her  ruffled  plumage.  "  You  know  1 
don't  like  kisses!" 

To  run  away  from  the  gratitude  of  the  women,  she 
took  a  little  holiday  from  the  Rest  Hall,  and  went  to 
stay  a  few  days  with  the  Osbourns. 

"Aren't  we  rather  magnificent?"  was  her  first  re 
mark,  as  after  a  quiet  dinner  she  sat  with  her  host 
and  hostess  in  their  cozy  drawing-room.  Both 
women  had  been  to  the  nursery  for  a  good-night  look 
at  Lee,  who,  rosy  and  dimpled,  was  a  great  contrast 
to  the  pallid  children  of  the  Hollow,  wan-cheeked 
and  thin,  as  no  children  who  belonged  even  remotely 
to  the  Waugh  interests  had  ever  been  before.  Harry 
with  a  book  and  a  pipe  looked  up,  as  Miss  Rachel 
spoke.  But  Eleanor  answered, 

"  The  house  has  been  done  over.  It  was  in  a  fearful 
state.  And  I've  bought  a  new  rug  or  two.  That's  all." 

"Well,  the  result  justifies  your  taste.  The  rug  is 
a  dream.  It  couldn't  be  more  beautiful,  with  those 
dim  colors  melting  into  one  another  so  wonderfully, 
while  your  foot  sinks  into  it  as  into  velvet.  I  live  on 
bare  floors,  you  know,  so  you  must  not  be  amazed 
at  my  admiration." 

Eleanor,  who  seldom  looked  dissatisfied,  hesitated 
before  she  said, 

"You  are  the  first  one  to  praise  my  new  posses 
sions.  Mother  is  silent,  Kathleen  grave,  and  Harry 
non-committal.  The  fact  is  I  have  lately  let  myself 


212  ELEANOR   LEE 

go,  and  I'm  not  sure  that  it's  been  quite  right.  But 
I've  been  saving  and  skimping  so  long  that  I'm  tired, 
and  I  was  determined  not  to  let  the  house  be  shabby, 
when  I  had  a  nest-egg  in  the  bank  on  which  I  could 
draw." 

Miss  Rachel  looked  inquiringly. 

"You  never  heard  about  that  nest-egg,  of  course. 
It  was  a  little  legacy  from  a  far-away  cousin  who, 
like  myself,  was  an  Eleanor  Lee.  It  came  just  when 
I  was  most  tired  of  my  economies,  and  I  made  up 
my  mind  I'd  spend  a  little  of  it.  The  worst  of  such 
spending  is,  one  never  knows  when  to  stop.  You 
get  one  new  thing  and  then  you  want  another  and 
another.  Each  pretty  thing  you  buy  costs  you  some 
peace  of  mind,  because  it  sends  you  out  to  look  for 
another  pretty  thing  to  match  it.  And  what  with  my 
having  the  house  refitted  and  decorated  and  every 
thing  else,  I've  grown  tired  and  cross,  and  so  has 
Harry,  poor  fellow!" 

"Speak  for  yourself,  dear!"  said  Harry,  smiling 
from  his  book.  But  Miss  Rachel  noticed  that  he  did 
look  unwontedly  tired,  and  she  knew  perfectly  well 
that  a  weary  man  may  sometimes  be  a  little  cross. 

When  the  hour  came  to  retire  Eleanor  accompanied 
Miss  Rachel  to  the  guest-room. 

I  know  that  the  guest-chamber,  once  a  feature  in 
every  refined  home,  is  passing  so  rapidly  that  our 
children  will  scarcely  keep  the  memory  of  it.  But 
when  Eleanor  Osbourn  and  Mattie  Waugh  and  other 
women  who  now  have  silver  hair  were  in  their  bloom, 
and  wore  lightly  the  honors  of  young  matronhood, 
the  guest-room  was  as  much  an  object  of  solicitude 
as  the  library  or  the  dining-room.  Here  the  lady  of 


FRIENDS  TOGETHER       213 

'the  house,  beautiful  old  title  this,  full  of  sweetest 
charm  and  most  gracious  dignity,  put  her  finest 
napery,  her  handsomest  furniture  and  her  most  lux 
urious  bed.  Everything  was  of  the  best.  Nothing 
that  could  add  to  a  visitor's  pleasure  or  convenience 
was  ever  omitted.  There  was  stationery,  there  were 
stamps,  there  were  books,  and  candlesticks,  with 
soft  dressing-gowns  and  bedroom  slippers,  in  case  of 
their  being  needed  in  the  night. 

Miss  Rachel  looked  appreciatively  over  Eleanor's 
lovely  room.  Not  a  detail  escaped  her  eye,  and  the 
exquisite  nicety  of  the  whole  was  in  itself  a  very 
great  pleasure. 

"  My  darling  Eleanor,"  she  said,  as  she  sank  into 
an  easy  chair,  "this  is  the  most  delightful  room  in 
your  delightful  house,  and  I  just  love  to  be  here  in  it 
with  you.  But  pardon  me,  child,  I've  known  you 
since  you  were  born,  and  your  husband  since  he  mar 
ried  you,  and  I  can  see  that  there's  something  awry. 
Don't  you  want  advice?  I'm  mother-confessor  in 
my  safe  estate  of  trusted  old  maid,  to  such  a  number 
of  my  neighbors,  that  I  begin  to  fancy  I  can  help  any 
body  out  of  any  tangle.  Is  there  any  tangle,  dear 
est  ?  " 

Eleanor  seated  herself  on  a  hassock  at  Miss  Rachel's 
feet  and  rested  her  arm  on  Miss  Rachel's  lap.  She 
was  about  to  speak,  when  Harry  called  her  from  the 
foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  Eleanor  dear,  don't  keep  Miss  Rachel  talking  un 
til  midnight.  Come  down.  I  want  you." 

So  Eleanor  said  good-night  and  went  down,  and 
she  did  not  then  receive  the  good  advice  Miss  Rachel 
might  have  given. 


XXV 

PROBLEMS 

BREAKFAST  over  the  next  morning  Eleanor 
sent  for  a  carriage  and  took  Miss  Rachel  for  a 
drive.  Their  final  objective  point  was  Mrs. 
Lee's,  where  they  were  to  lunch,  but  before  going 
there,  Eleanor  purposed  making  a  morning  of  it.  She 
had  an  errand  at  her  dressmaker's.  She  took  Miss 
Rachel  in  to  see  Mattie,  and  they  stopped  by  the  way 
for  a  visit  to  little  Lois  in  her  kindergarten,  and  so  in 
one  or  another  pleasant  loitering  Miss  Rachel  rested 
all  the  morning. 

As  they  turned  a  corner,  they  caught  a  glimpse  of 
Gypsey  Mary  plodding  on  with  her  basket,  and  Miss 
Rachel  gave  her  a  neighborly  nod. 

"We  are  both  rather  far  afield,"  she  said.  "Do, 
Eleanor,  buy  some  pins  from  Mary.  Stop  the  car 
riage,  and  let  us  bid  her  good-morning.  And  when 
we've  finished  that,  let's  just  drive  to  the  Hollow  and 
inquire  for  Jacky  Elkins." 

Here  Eleanor  demurred. 

"  I  am  giving  you  a  vacation.  Even  saints  need 
one  now  and  then.  It  isn't  an  original  remark,  so 
you  have  no  occasion  to  blush,  Miss  Rachel,  though 
you  are  a  saint  in  good  earnest.  Why  must  we  go 
to  look  after  Jacky,  please  ?  " 

"You  are  a  mother,  Eleanor.  If  Lee  had  been 
as  near  death  as  Jacky  has  been,  you  would  want 

314 


PROBLEMS  215 

those  who  love  you  to  call  and  ask  for  him.  Sophy 
Elkins  leans  on  me,  and  I  cannot  fail  her.  I  must 
go  all  the  more  that  the  Elkins  are  so  desperately 
poor." 

''Their  own  fault,  isn't  it?"  said  Eleanor,  coldly. 

"  Our  troubles  are  usually  due  to  our  own  fault," 
was  Miss  Rachel's  comment.  "  But  that  speech  is 
not  like  you,  dear.  Why  are  you  so  frugal  in  sym 
pathy  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  I'm  bankrupt  in  sympathy 
lately.  I've  been  getting  colder  and  harder  and  more 
horrid  for  the  last  year." 

She  gave  the  coachman  the  order  to  drive  to  the 
Hollow. 

"  We  won't  drive  to  the  very  door  of  Mrs.  Elkins' 
home,"  said  Miss  Rachel.  "We'll  stop  at  the  corner, 
out  of  sight  of  her  house,  and  then  you  and  I  will 
walk  there.  I  want  you  to  see  the  little  woman  with 
her  brood.  She's  a  brave  little  woman." 

John  was  at  home,  but  he  drew  back  into  the 
shadow,  after  a  warm  greeting  to  Miss  Rachel. 
Sophy  met  her  with  outstretched  hand. 

"  The  little  fellow  is  all  right  again,"  she  said. 

Eleanor  was  touched  at  his  pallor,  and  his  hollow 
eyes.  She  gathered  him  up  in  her  arms,  and  brooded 
over  him  as  she  did  over  her  own  Lee,  and  when  she 
went  away,  she  slipped  a  gold  piece  into  his 
mother's  hand.  Sophy  shook  her  head. 

"  You  must  take  it,  Mrs.  Elkins.  It  is  not  for  you. 
It's  for  the  baby.  Buy  something  he  wants." 

"You  haven't  been  near  me  or  my  people  for  an 
age,"  Miss  Rachel  made  the  statement  positively  as 
they  drove  away  towards  the  boulevard  that  led 


216  ELEANOR   LEE 

down  to  the  sea.  The  salt  breeze  swept  towards 
them  like  a  lover,  its  touch  a  caress. 

"I  have  been  nowhere,  dear  Miss  Rachel,  except 
with  mother,  whose  blindness  is  increasing  so 
rapidly  that  I  spend  a  good  deal  of  time  with  her. 
Kathleen  and  I  seldom  leave  her  alone.  Max 
Pomfret,  of  all  people,  reads  to  her  every  evening." 

"  Ah,  he  misses  his  home,  and  his  mother,  though 
he  neglected  them  so  long.  There's  good  in  that 
man,  Eleanor." 

"  He's  a  queer  mixture!  " 

"  What  I  want  to  know  is  what  ails  you,  and  what 
ails  Harry  ?  " 

"I  can't  tell  you  what  ails  Harry.  He's  over 
worked,  I'm  afraid.  He  has  spells  of  being  tired  and 
irritable.  Then,  when  I'm  on  the  point  of  sending 
for  the  doctor,  he's  all  right,  and  there's  nothing  you 
can  put  a  finger  on.  What  ails  me,  Miss  Rachel,  is 
that  I  never  have  money  enough." 

"With  your  large  income?  You  must  manage 
badly." 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  manage  very  well.  I  know  I 
spend  more  than  I  ought,  but  I  have  no  idea  why." 

"  Harry  should  give  you  an  allowance." 

"Harry  says  that  he  does  not  believe  in  allowances 
for  a  wife  whose  husband  does  not  regard  her  as  a 
child.  Whatever  belongs  to  him  belongs  to  me  and 
he  is  not  willing  that  there  should  be  anything  com 
mercial  in  our  relations.  The  income  Harry  makes 
I  suppose  is  fluctuating." 

"I  understood  the  contrary,"  said  Miss  Rachel 
before  she  thought.  She  had  the  impression  that 
Donald  paid  him  a  large  salary.  But  she  might  of 


PROBLEMS  21 7 

course  be  mistaken.  Anyhow  it  was  not  her  busi 
ness. 

"Whatever  he  has  or  has  not  it  is  Harry's  nature 
to  be  very  lavish  and  very  sanguine.  He  sees  things 
in  rose  color.  He  anticipates  the  very  best  always, 
and  his  geese  are  swans.  Then  he  has  the  queerest 
streaks  of  parsimony,  reactions  when  he  is  as  stingy 
as  he  has  been  lavish.  1  make  bills  and  Harry  is 
charmed  till  the  bills  come  in.  But  oh!  what  will 
you  think  of  me,  as  a  wife,  chattering  on  in  this 
fashion  ?  I  do  not  think  a  wife  has  any  right  to  talk 
so  of  her  husband  and  I  never  used  to  do  it.  I  fear  I 
am  degenerating,  Miss  Rachel." 

"  I  invited  you  and  tempted  you,  Eleanor,  so  I  am 
to  blame.  You  and  Harry  are  making  a  mistake  that 
is  very  common  among  us.  More  married  people 
show  singular  stupidity  on  this  one  subject  than  on 
any  other  in  the  wide  world.  Domestic  finance 
should  be  reduced  to  a  system  and  domestic  peace 
would  be  insured.  It  is  again  an  old  maid's  wisdom, 
Eleanor,  that  you  are  listening  to." 

"My  dear  old  friend,  1  am  sure  you  are  right. 
What  would  be  your  panacea  ?" 

"  Have  a  plain  straightforward  talk  with  your 
husband,  dear,  and  a  clear  understanding  about  what 
you  may  and  what  you  may  not  spend.  Insist  on  an 
arrangement  that  is  perfectly  businesslike  and  keep 
within  your  margin.  Have  an  allowance  for  the 
household,  and  one  for  your  personal  wants.  You 
will  find  your  difficulties  magically  dissipated." 

"Do  you  administer  counsel  of  this  sort  to  your 
people  in  the  Hollow,  Miss  Rachel?" 

"When  things  are  normal  there,  I  have  no  need. 


218  ELEANOR  LEE 

The  wife  is  the  purse-holder,  and  as  chancellor  of  the 
exchequer,  she  manages  admirably.  The  husband 
brings  her  his  earnings,  and  so  do  the  children.  Ex 
cept  what  he  spends  for  drink,  when  he  is  intemper 
ate,  she  receives  all.  That  of  course  is  another 
story." 

In  an  instant  Miss  Rachel  regretted  her  allusion. 
She  sheered  away  from  it. 

"  Why  do  you  not  come  to  help  us  any  more, 
dear  ?  We'd  like  your  voice  and  your  playing  some 
times." 

"I've  slipped  away  from  so  many  things,  Miss 
Rachel.  I'm  afraid  I've  grown  selfish." 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  so;  I  think  you've  had  a  good 
many  absorbing  interests.  Your  boy  takes  up  a  good 
deal  of  time,  and  your  mother,  and  I  saw  a  pile  of 
severe  looking  books  in  your  room  and  concluded 
you  were  studying  something  profound.  Then  you 
have  social  duties.  You  know  many  people  now 
and  Islington  is  not  the  simple  little  town  it  used 
to  be." 

They  dropped  serious  subjects  and  talked  of  in 
different  matters  until  they  reached  Mrs.  Lee's.  There 
Miss  Rachel  saw  that  the  daughters  were  indeed 
much  occupied  with  their  mother.  The  surgeon's 
knife  could  not  as  yet  restore  the  lost  vision.  There 
must  be  a  period  of  patient  waiting.  She  was  at  once 
impressed  with  the  serenity  on  Mrs.  Lee's  face. 
Hitherto  a  woman  of  the  greatest  activity  with 
multiform  affairs  pressing  on  her  heart  and  hands, 
she  was  now  contented  to  sit  still  and  delegate  much 
to  others.  She  did  not  fret  or  disturb  herself  or  her 
family  by  vain  repinings  and  her  bright  smile  as  she 


PROBLEMS  219 

look  Miss  Rachel's  hand  was  a  revelation  of  what 
may  be  wrought  in  character  by  God's  moulding 
hand  for  those  who  simply  trust  and  take  the  day 
as  it  conies. 

"No,  dear,  I  don't  find  the  time  hanging  heavily," 
she  said.  "  I  have  so  much  to  be  thankful  for,  and 
so  much  to  enjoy." 

"  Whatsoever  falleth  thee,"  said  Archbishop  Leigh- 
ton,  "  receive  it  not  from  the  hand  of  any  creature, 
but  from  Him  alone,  and  render  back  all  to  Him, 
seeking  in  all  things  His  pleasure  and  honor,  the 
purifying  and  subduing  of  thyself.  What  can  harm 
thee,  when  all  must  first  touch  God,  in  whom  thou 
hast  enclosed  thyself  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  ask  my  cross  to  understand, 

My  way  to  see  ; 

Better  in  darkness  just  to  feel  Thy  hand, 
And  follow  Thee." 

This  had  become  the  spirit  in  which  Mrs.  Lee  or 
dered  her  days.  In  consequence  of  this  a  great 
peacefulness  surrounded  her  like  an  atmosphere,  and 
her  home  was  as  cheery  as  it  ever  had  been,  the  sun 
light  of  the  inner  life  prevailing  over  the  shadow  that 
lay  upon  the  mistress,  so  far  as  actual  sight  was  con 
cerned.  Mrs.  Lee  was  contented,  and  contentment  is 
in  itself  a  strength.  She  knew  too  that  in  God's 
providence  relief  would  probably  come,  and  while 
she  waited  for  it  she  was  singularly  happy. 

The  sensitiveness  that  seems  a  distinguishing  trait 
of  the  blind,  made  her  realize  that  Eleanor's  sunshine 
was  under  a  cloud.  She  accurately  measured  cause 
and  effect,  and  was  not  troubled  about  it.  Little 


220  ELEANOR   LEE 

troubled  her  now,  and  her  mood  was  so  restful  that 
tired  Miss  Rachel  felt  it,  and  was  soothed  as  if  she 
heard  sweet  music. 

"  I  never  saw  anything  that  changes  so  little  as 
this  home  does,"  she  said,  looking  about  her.  "Your 
furniture  does  not  wear  out,  your  house  seems  never 
in  want  of  repair,  you  do  not  change,  as  other  people 
do,  Mrs.  Lee." 

"  Oh,  life's  wear  and  tear  is  visible  on  us  all,  and 
our  wear  and  tear  shows  itself  on  our  homes,  of 
course,  but  where  everything  is  already  mellowed  by 
time,  and  long  usage  has  accustomed  us  to  a  certain 
shabbiness,  it  gets  to  have  an  effect  of  elegance.  I 
could  not  be  interested  in  much  change  in  this  house. 
If  the  judge  could  come  back,  it  would  look  the  same 
to  him,  as  when  he  went  to  the  other  land.  He 
would  see  changes  in  the  children  and  me.  I  often 
speculate  on  that  subject,  Rachel.  '  Shall  we  know 
each  other  there  ? '  is  a  question  that  awakens  con 
jecture.  Shall  we  know  each  other  the  instant  we 
set  foot  on  that  shore  of  so  many  hopes,  so  many 
dreams  ?  I  have  grown  old  since  my  husband  saw 
me  last." 

"Old  in  the  outward  only,  and  that  will  drop 
away,  and  you  will  look  as  you  did  when  you  were 
young  and  strong.  I  have  never  had  any  speculation 
about  that,"  replied  Miss  Rachel.  "  You  recall  that  bit 
of  poetry  Kathleen  learned  to  recite  in  school,  '  The 
Masquerade  '  ?  When  the  child  was  tottering  along 
with  an  old  poke  bonnet  and  a  long  old  cloak,  and 
stumbled,  don't  you  remember  ?  " 

"  Not  I,"  said  Mrs.  Lee.  "  Here  is  Kathleen.  Let 
us  test  her  memory." 


PROBLEMS  221 

,  Kathleen  was  not  reluctant.  Her  mind  was  a  store 
house  of  odds  and  ends  that  she  had  collected  in  her 
childish  days,  when  she  had  been  expected  to  com 
mit  things  to  memory.  It  is  not  a  bad  plan  to  do 
this  when  one  is  young.  The  treasure  house  usually 
proves  a  safe  place  of  deposit. 

"  A  little  old  woman  before  me 

Went  slowly  down  the  street, 
Walking  as  if  aweary 

Were  her  feeble,  faltering  feet. 

"  From  under  her  old  poke  bonnet 

I  caught  a  gleam  of  snow, 
And  her  waving  cap-string  fluttered 
Like  a  pennon  to  and  fro. 

"In  the  folds  of  her  rusty  mantle 
Sudden  her  footsteps  caught, 
And  I  sprang  to  keep  her  from  falling, 
With  a  touch  as  quick  as  thought. 

"  Mantle  and  cap  together 

Fell  off  at  my  very  feet, 
And  there  stood  my  winsome  daughter. 
Beautiful,  blushing,  sweet. 

"  Shall  it  be  like  this,  I  wonder, 

When  we  come  at  least  to  stand 
On  the  golden,  gleaming  pavement, 
Of  the  blessed,  blessed  land. 

«'  Losing  the  rusty  garments 

We  wore  in  the  years  of  Time, 
Shall  our  better  selves  spring  forward, 
Serene  in  a  youth  sublime, 

"  Instead  of  the  shapes  that  hid  us, 

And  made  us  old  and  gray, 
Shall  we  get  the  child-heart  back  again 
With  a  lightness  that  will  stay  ?  " 


222  ELEANOR   LEE 

Kathleen  curtseyed  low. 

"  1  have  said  my  piece." 

"  Thank  you,  dearest.  You  have  said  it  very  well. 
You  may  go  and  play." 

Then  Mrs.  Lee  and  Miss  Rachel  resumed  their  talk 
about  Eleanor. 

"  With  my  child's  temperament,"  said  the  mother, 
"  it  is  inevitable  that  she  shall  feel  unstrung  at  times. 
Eleanor  is  seldom  free  from  strain,  though  it  is  often 
sub-conscious.  She  has  not  entirely  thrown  off  ap 
prehension,  that  sometime,  something  else  will  hap 
pen  to  her  or  to  her  dear  ones,  and  just  now  she  is 
leaning  too  heavily  on  her  will  power,  and  too  slightly 
on  God's  grace.  God  teaches  us  by  ways  that  He 
finds  best,  that  we  must  lean  on  Him." 

"  You  have  confidence  in  Him,  let  what  may 
happen." 

"  Yes,  Rachel  dear,  absolute  confidence." 

"  You  don't  fear,  or  you  don't  think  Eleanor  fears, 
a  relapse  for  Harry,  do  you  ?  "  asked  Miss  Rachel, 
venturing  on  delicate  ground,  for  this  was  a  subject 
avoided  by  the  Lees  and  their  friends. 

"  I  fear  nothing,  Rachel.  I  sometimes  fancy  Elea 
nor  has  fears,  but  not  of  the  sort  of  thing  she  has 
once  undergone.  Luncheon  is  ready.  Don't  let  us 
dwell  on  this.  Some  things  are  best  left  unspoken." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  having  spoken." 

"No,  you  have  no  need.  I  am  glad  you  did. 
Eleanor  is  happy  to-day.  I  can  tell  by  her  voice.  Is 
she  looking  well,  Rachel  ?  " 

"  She  is  looking  lovely,"  said  Miss  Rachel.  "  Who 
ever  saw  Eleanor  otherwise  ?  " 

As  they  chatted  over  their  salad  and  chocolate,  the 


PROBLEMS  223 

tonversation  turned  on  education,  and  it  presently 
was  manifest  that  Eleanor  was  already  going  to  col 
lege  with  Lee.  As  is  the  custom  with  mothers,  par 
ticularly  when  they  have  but  one  child,  she  was  fore 
casting  the  years,  and  carrying  much  luggage  that 
was  not  yet  to  be  seen,  which  at  the  moment  had  no 
place  on  the  journey. 

"Lee  isn't  yet  in  the  kindergarten,"  Kathleen 
laughed,  as  she  declared  that  she  would  wait  for  her 
son,  when  he  arrived,  to  grow  up  before  she  dis 
tressed  herself  about  him,  his  electives,  his  sports, 
and  the  profession  he  was  to  adorn. 

Kindergartens  were  comparatively  new,  and  Harry 
regarded  them  as  the  merest  play-schools,  and  scoffed 
at  the  idea  of  their  doing  a  child  any  good.  But 
Eleanor  was  convinced  of  their  beneficial  effect  on  a 
child's  development,  and  so  Lee  was  to  begin  his 
school  education  in  one  of  them,  the  very  next  week. 

"I  am  so  very  much  at  sea,"  she  told  her  mother. 
"  Lee  is  such  a  little  tempest;  he  flies  into  such  rages 
at  times,  and  then  again,  he  is  so  destructive,  break 
ing  up  his  toys,  and  flinging  everything  around. 
And  1  don't  know  about  teaching  him  much  about 
God  and  the  soul.  He  is  so  little  to  be  confronted 
with  the  great  mysteries." 

"Eleanor  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Lee,  " can  you  remem 
ber  a  time  when  you  did  not  pray  to  God,  or  when 
you  did  not  know  that  a  certain  book  lying  on  my 
table,  was  God's  Book  ?  " 

"No,  dear  mother." 

"  I  was  no  theorist,  but  as  soon  as  the  baby  hands 
could  be  folded  together  in  mine,  I  said  a  little  prayer 
over  them  for  my  baby,  and  as  soon  as  each  child 


224  ELEANOR   LEE 

could  speak  in  broken  syllables,  I  taught  my  little 
ones  a  prayer  to  say  themselves.  I  believe  that  chil 
dren  should  grow  up  into  God's  kingdom,  as  the 
plants  grow  in  the  garden,  and  that  nothing  should 
be  forced.  Pray  for  Lee,  and  teach  him  to  pray.  As 
for  his  little  bursts  of  temper  many  of  them  are  simply 
due  to  inexperience  and  lack  of  vocabulary.  Pass 
*them  over  without  notice,  and  try  diversion.  Chil 
dren  sometimes  like  to  make  a  sensation.  They  enjoy 
the  dramatic  effect  of  what  they  do,  and  there  is 
more  danger  in  accentuating  their  mistakes  by  pun 
ishment,  than  in  letting  them  alone." 

"Your  mother  is  right,  dear,"  said  Miss  Rachel. 
"Now  I've  an  idea.  Can  we  not  have  a  kindergarten 
on  a  small  scale,  perhaps  at  the  Rest,  so  that  the  little 
tots  of  the  Hollow  may  have  the  privileges  granted 
to  the  little  tots  of  the  Hill  ?  " 

"It  would  cost  money." 

"Why  of  course  it  would.  But  a  few  bright 
women  joining  together  could  easily  raise  the  money. 
Think  of  the  good  it  would  do.  We  have  a  day 
nursery  now.  A  kindergarten  should  follow  as  the 
next  step." 

"If  you  want  any  more  care,  Miss  Rachel  dear, 
you  should  not  be  balked  in  your  inclination.  I  will 
set  about  starting  a  free  kindergarten  at  once.  I've 
been  wanting  something  outside  of  my  home,  and 
for  other  people  to  do  with  both  hands,  and  this  may 
be  the  very  thing.  Kathleen,  get  pencils  and  paper, 
and  let  us  make  a  list  of  all  our  friends  and  acquaint 
ances." 

Eleanor's  enthusiasm  kindled.  She  forgot  that  she 
was  run  down  and  a  little  tired,  and  not  quite  up  to 


PROBLEMS  225 

the  usual  mark,  and  thus  the  first  free  kindergarten  in 
the  Old  Field  Hollow  had  its  birth. 

Miss  Rachel  returned  to  her  people  and  her  work, 
greatly  freshened  after  her  brief  outing.  The  wel 
come  that  she  received  was  as  spontaneous  and  as 
cordial  as  if  she  had  been  away  for  six  months.  The 
women  who  surrounded  Miss  Rachel  Waugh  felt 
bereaved  if  she  were  away  from  her  usual  place  a 
single  day. 


XXVI 
AN  OBSTACLE  OR  TWO 

THE  obstacle  nobody  foresaw  was  naturally 
the  first  stumbling-block  in  the  path  of  the 
free  kindergarten.  Women  who  were  read 
ily  persuaded  to  entrust  their  babies  to  the  kind  care 
of  the  day  nursery,  while  they  went  to  their  work  of 
scrubbing  or  washing,  saw  no  sense  as  they  openly 
said  in  letting  the  children  next  older  than  the  babies, 
attend  so  foolish  a  school  as  one  where  the  teacher 
played  with  them  and  they  used  pins  and  chalk  and 
clay,  and  did  not  learn  to  read.  They  shared  the 
objections  of  Harry  Osbourn,  and  were  loud  in  stat 
ing  them. 

"But,"  remonstrated  Mattie  Waugh,  who  was 
urging  the  new  school  for  the  tiny  girls  and  boys,  on 
a  group  of  protesting  mothers,  "  I  send  my  child  to  a 
kindergarten.  Lois  goes.  Why  shouldn't  your  Mir 
iam,  and  your  Bessie,  and  your  Maria,  go  to  such  a 
school  as  my  Lois  attends?" 

The  argument  made  its  impression.  One  matron 
however  opposed  it. 

"  Lois  Waugh  will  be  rich.  Our  kids  will  never  be 
anything  but  poor.  This  kindergarten  nonsense  will 
fill  their  heads  with  ideas  above  their  pockets." 

This  met  with  no  favor.  Mrs.  Waugh  was  much 
liked  in  the  Hollow,  and  her  opinions  carried  weight. 
If  she  thought  that  sticking  pins  into  cardboard,  and 

226 


AN  OBSTACLE  OR  TWO     227 

making  clay  images,  and  playing  fanciful  games, 
would  do  good  to  the  boys  and  girls,  before  they  went 
to  the  primary  school,  there  must  be  something  in  it. 

"The  brats  will  be  out  o'  the  street  and  out  o'  mis 
chief,"  one  practical  woman  said,  summing  up  the 
matter. 

Next  came  another  aspect  of  the  obstacle.  Kinder- 
gartners  were  then  few,  as  compared  with  the  present 
multiplicity  of  bright  young  women  who  have  mas 
tered  the  system,  and  whose  study  of  childish  pecul 
iarities  has  been  deep  and  loving.  One  was  found, 
but  though  in  other  things  prepared  to  do  good  work, 
she  was  not  in  touch  with  this  environment. 

"I'd  rather  wait  and  teach  nice  children,  from  a 
pleasant  neighborhood,  at  a  less  salary,"  she  said. 
"  I  don't  care  to  come  here." 

"Nor  would  we  care  to  have  you,"  answered 
Eleanor  quietly.  Eleanor  was  president  of  the  Board 
of  Managers.  "It  is  imperative  that  we  have  to 
help  these  little  children  people  who  love  them." 

When  the  young  lady,  a  little  crestfallen  but  quite 
resolute  in  her  determination  to  keep  the  poor  at  a 
good  distance  from  her  dainty  self,  had  gone  away, 
and  the  door  was  shut  behind  her,  Eleanor  astonished 
her  associates. 

"  I'll  teach  the  children  myself  for  the  next  month 
or  two,"  she  announced.  "It's  absurd,  it's  disgust 
ing,  that  a  young  woman  should  take  the  stand  that 
girl  did.  When  our  Lord  said,  '  Suffer  the  little  chil 
dren  to  come  unto  Me,  and  forbid  them  not,'  do  you 
suppose  He  meant  only  the  rich  children,  the  children 
of  the  kings  and  nobles;  I  don't.  I'm  sure  He  meant 
the  children  of  the  pauper  and  the  peasant." 


228  ELEANOR   LEE 

This  was  the  old  Eleanor,  vehement,  impulsive,  not 
counting  the  cost.  As  the  meeting  dissolved,  a  room 
having  been  assigned  for  the  new  kindergarten  in  the 
capacious  hall,  and  a  committee  designated  with  au 
thority  to  purchase  small  chairs  and  tables  and  simple 
apparatus  and  supplies,  Kathleen  walked  home  with 
Eleanor  and  Mattie.  The  latter  had  sent  her  carriage 
home  an  hour  before,  desiring  a  long  walk  with  her 
friends. 

"  Harry  Osbourn  will  veto  that  proceeding  of 
yours,"  exclaimed  Mattie,  the  instant  the  hall's  door 
was  shut. 

"Yes  indeed  he  will,"  echoed  Kathleen.  "Why, 
Eleanor,  you  know  Harry's  increasing  dislike  to  you 
piling  up  engagements  outside  the  home.  He's  most 
unreasonable  I  think,  but  he's  Harry,  and  you  ought 
to  have  consulted  him  before  you  pledged  your 
self." 

Sisterly  freedom  this,  but  Eleanor  only  smiled. 

"  Harry's  not  a  Turk.  I  give  up  to  him  now  more 
than  is  for  his  good  or  mine.  I'm  going  to  turn  over 
a  new  leaf." 

Mattie  Waugh  looked  very  doubtful. 

"  Turning  over  new  leaves  when  it's  a  case  of  over 
coming  one's  husband's  prejudices  is  a  pretty  hard 
task.  I  turn  over  no  new  leaves  with  Donald.  If 
girls  were  wise  they'd  begin  with  more  independence 
than  they  do  in  the  first  years,  and  then  they'd  never 
have  new  leaves  to  turn." 

"I  shall  do  just  as  I  please,"  said  Eleanor  firmly. 
Yet  her  heart  quaked  a  little.  At  the  moment  of 
making  her  determined  offer,  she  had  overlooked  the 
wifely  necessity  of  consulting  and  conferring  with 


AN  OBSTACLE  OR  TWO     229 

"Harry.  She  knew,  as  well  as  did  her  sister  and  her 
friend,  that  Harry  could  be  obstinate,  and  that  on 
this  occasion  he  probably  would  be.  There  might  be 
a  contest.  If  there  were,  Eleanor  was  not  at  all  sure 
that  she  would  yield.  Kathleen  saw  the  trouble  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Use  tact,  Eleanor,"  she  said.  "  Don't  bring  this 
matter  up  until  Harry  is  in  a  very  good  humor,  and 
in  the  mood  to  grant  your  requests." 

"One  would  suppose  you  thought  Harry  a  bear," 
said  Eleanor  indignantly.  "  What  a  fuss  over  noth 
ing  at  all!  I'm  not  proposing  to  be  a  kindergartner 
the  rest  of  my  life.  I'm  only  stepping  into  the  breach 
for  a  few  weeks.  One  thing  I'll  never  stoop  to,  sis 
ter,  is  to  use  tact  when  I'm  talking  with  my  own 
husband.  This  is  a  queer  conversation  of  ours.  It 
lacks  dignity." 

It  was  dropped.  At  dinner  that  night  Mattie 
Waugh  mentioned  Eleanor's  intention  to  Donald, 
who  laughed  indulgently. 

"  What  a  child  that  woman  is  to  be  sure.  What's 
to  become  of  her  home  duties  when  she's  gallivant 
ing  off  in  that  manner?  Her  husband  will  never 
allow  it.  You  and  she  must  wait  about  that  kinder 
garten  till  you  find  a  competent  teacher.  Money  will 
bring  her.  Mind,  Mattie,  I'll  not  have  you  going  off 
at  any  such  tangent." 

"Don't  be  alarmed,  Donald.  But  keep  your  pro 
hibitions  until  you  have  cause  for  them.  I  have  ex 
pressed  no  such  intention." 

Mattie  spoke  hastily,  and  her  color  rose.  She  was 
ruffled. 

Donald  laughed  again.     An  exhibition  of  temper 


230  ELEANOR   LEE 

on  the  part  of  his  quiet,  complacent  little  wife  al 
ways  amused  him. 

"You  look  very  pretty  with  that  flush  on  your 
cheek,  dear." 

"Don't  think  to  placate  me  by  a  compliment, 
Donald,"  but  Mattie  was  appeased  nevertheless. 

"  I  have  so  much  confidence  in  your  flawless  wis 
dom,  Mattie,  that  my  forbidding  you  anything  is 
only  the  form  of  speech  intended  as  a  shield  around 
my  masculine  prerogative  of  keeping  the  upper 
hand.  Seriously,  I  don't  think  Eleanor  has  health 
and  strength  and  nerves  for  steady  work  in  a  school 
room  every  morning  of  her  life.  Do  you  ?  " 

"Indeed  I  do  not." 

As  they  left  the  dining-room,  Donald  held  open  the 
door  for  Mattie  to  pass  out  first.  In  the  drawing- 
room  he  bent  over  her  and  kissed  her  smooth  fore 
head.  She  reached  up  and  took  his  hand  in  hers.  A 
large  powerful  hand  still,  she  was  struck  by  its  thin 
ness  and  alarmed.  Donald,  in  the  light  of  the  lamps, 
looked  gray  and  gaunt. 

"I  want  you  to  lie  down  on  the  divan,"  said 
Mattie,  "and  deny  yourself  to  every  caller  this  even 
ing.  I'll  cover  you  up,  and  then  I'll  read  to  you,  or 
play  for  you,  or  entertain  you  somehow.  We'll 
have  one  of  our  old  Darby  and  Joan  evenings.  Shall 
we  ?" 

They  started  with  this  intention,  but  Mattie  neg 
lected  to  give  orders  to  her  servants,  and  in  the 
midst  of  a  scientific  paper  she  was  reading  from  a 
magazine  the  door  opened,  and  the  man  announced, 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Osbourn." 

In  they  came.     Mattie  took  care  that  no  one  else 


AN  OBSTACLE  OR  TWO     231 

should  be  received.  The  Osbourns  were  almost  like 
themselves. 

Eleanor  threw  off  the  long  cloak  and  hood  she  had 
worn,  and  began  her  errand  without  delay.  Donald 
had  risen  on  her  entrance.  Greetings  were  hardly 
over  when  she  exclaimed, 

"  Mattie,  you  and  Kathleen  were  right  and  I  was 
wrong.  Harry  disapproves  of  my  attempting  any 
more  work,  not  that  I  couldn't  do  it,  but  he  says 
that  I  must  keep  myself  fresh  for  Lee's  sake,  and  I 
am  convinced,  against  my  will,  that  he  is  right.  So, 
I'll  have  to  withdraw  my  offer." 

"I  tell  Eleanor,"  said  Harry,  "that  she  can  super 
vise  as  much  as  she  wishes  to,  but  that  she  can't  go 
down  there  for  the  drudgery.  It  wouldn't  be  fair. 
She's  too  busy  for  that  kind  of  thing.  And  she's  been 
lovely  about  looking  at  it  through  my  eyes.  Of 
course,  if  it  were  a  matter  of  heartbreak  to  her,  or  of 
life  and  death  to  the  Hollowites,  I  would  not  oppose 
her  for  a  minute.  But  I've  persuaded  her  to  agree 
with  me!" 

"Hoot  mon!"  cried  Donald.  "You  have  a  per 
suasive  tongue  in  your  head,  as  many  a  jury  has  found 
out.  Come  to  my  den,  and  we'll  leave  the  ladies  to 
the  discussion  of  this  mighty  matter.  Don't  worry, 
girls,"  he  called  out  in  his  biggest  voice,  "I'll  send 
across  the  water  and  get  you  the  finest  teacher  money 
can  allure  from  the  other  side." 

Left  alone,  Mattie  and  Eleanor  looked  at  one  an 
other  with  interrogation  in  the  eyes  of  Mattie,  and 
revelation  in  the  eyes  of  Eleanor. 

"  You  said  you  would  decide  just  as  you  pleased  ?" 
This  from  Mrs.  Waugh. 


232  ELEANOR   LEE 

"I  have.  I  cannot  put  myself  in  the  position  of 
treating  Harry's  views  with  contempt.  Pray,  did 
you  fancy  I  should?" 

"Not  for  an  instant,"  answered  Mattie. 

The  kindergarten  in  the  Hollow  was  only  a  little 
delayed  by  these  passages.  Before  many  weeks  it 
was  in  successful  operation,  with  a  flaxen-haired 
German  girl  presiding  over  its  rhythmic  games  and 
songs.  It  wrought  a  revolution  in  the  little  men  and 
women  who  came  joyously  to  its  happy  precincts, 
each  of  them  learning  at  the  close  of  the  morning 
how  to  sit  at  a  table  and  eat  an  appetizing  meal,  with 
the  good  manners  to  which  more  fortunate  children 
are  born. 

Eleanor,  as  it  happened,  had  very  little  to  do  with 
it,  beyond  attending  managers'  meetings,  for  Lee  just 
then  had  a  succession  of  those  diseases  from  which 
little  children  suffer,  mumps,  measles,  whooping- 
cough,  and  he  needed  his  mother's  continual  care. 
That  he  came  through  these  reefs  and  shoals  of  child 
hood  not  much  the  worse,  was  owing  to  her  sedulous 
vigilance.  When  Lee  was  ill,  his  mother  was  his 
chief  nurse,  and  it  was  she,  not  he,  who  was  white 
and  wan,  when  the  doctor  ceased  his  daily  visits. 


XXYII 
THE  BURDEN  OF  WEALTH 

LITTLE  Lois  Waugh  was  more  and  more  her 
father's  helper,  because  more  and  more  as  the 
years  brought  their  harvesting,  he  felt  the 
pressure  of  the  burden  of  wealth.     Those  who  have 
attained  the  golden  mean   in  this  world,  who  have 
neither  poverty  nor  riches,  are  to  be  congratulated. 
Abundance,  when  it  touches  the  superlative,  brings 
with  it  such  added  responsibility,  that  its  possessor 
often  spends  sleepless  nights  and  knows  wearisome 
days. 

One  of  Donald  Waugh's  jealously  cherished  habits 
was  that  of  personally  answering  every  letter  that 
came  to  his  home.  As  his  health  lost  something  of  its 
earlier  elasticity,  and  gave  subtle  signs  of  breaking, 
his  wife  begged  him  to  lay  aside  this  custom  and  em 
ploy  a  secretary,  or  else  let  a  part  of  the  correspond 
ence  lie  on  the  table,  for  attention  when  there  came 
leisure.  Mattie  herself  did  not  hold  the  pen  of  a 
ready  writer,  and  her  good  sense  kept  her  from  at 
tempting  more  than  she  could  do,  but  her  entreaties 
were  of  no  avail.  Day  by  day  the  postman  brought 
the  ever  accumulating  pile  of  letters,  letters,  letters, 
until  they  assumed  in  Donald's  mind  a  shape  akin  to 
that  of  the  frogs  of  Egypt,  when  they  invaded  the 
bedrooms  and  the  kneading  troughs,  the  courts  and 
the  secret  chambers  of  the  old  Egyptians  in  the  days 
when  the  Lord  hardened  Pharaoh's  heart. 

233 


234  ELEANOR  LEE 

"\  wis'  He  would  harden  you  heart,  papa,"  said 
precocious  little  Lois  one  morning,  when  she  saw  the 
frown  deepen  on  her  father's  face.  "I  wis' you'd 
burn  up  the  letters,  all  of  them." 

"Hush,  Lois,  what  a  naughty  wish!"  exclaimed 
her  mother.  "The  truth  is,  Donald,  we  talk  too 
freely  before  this  child.  She  is  growing  unchildlike, 
— it's  almost  uncanny." 

"  Run  away,  darling,"  said  the  father  of  Lois,  with 
a  smile  that  lit  his  rugged  face.  "  What  would  father 
do  without  his  blessing  ?  " 

"You  spoil  her,"  interposed  the  mother. 

"  Love  does  not  spoil,"  he  answered,  with  a  tender 
look  towards  the  doorway  where  the  stiff  white 
frock  and  red-gold  head  of  his  daughter  were  disap 
pearing.  "  Mattie,  will  you  tell  me  how  people  find 
me  out  ?  Here,  child,  drop  your  housewifery  and  at 
least  help  me  sort  out  to-day's  mail." 

Among  the  letters  were  those  which  came  to  hus 
band  and  wife  as  legitimate  claims,  reminders  of  sub 
scriptions  about  to  lapse,  certain  annuities  they  paid 
annually  to  keep  in  comfort  old  pensioners  and  re 
tainers  of  their  families,  and  calls  for  aid  from  causes 
to  which  both  were  more  or  less  pledged.  But  these 
were  in  the  minority.  People  whom  the  Waughs 
did  not  know  and  of  whom  they  had  never  so  much 
as  heard,  people  who  lived  in  distant  states,  wrote  to 
them  preferring  all  sorts  of  petitions.  One  family 
asked  a  sum  of  money  to  pay  off  a  mortgage. 
Another  had  a  gifted  daughter  for  whom  they  sought 
the  means  for  a  musical  education  in  Italy.  Yet 
another  wanted  a  piano  and  stated  their  preference  as 
to  the  maker.  The  pleas  were  couched  in  terms  of 


THE  BURDEN  OF  WEALTH  235 

fulsome  admiration,  or  were  stated  tersely,  so  that 
they  assumed  the  air  of  demands,  and  the  mere  re 
plying  to  them  was  a  tax  that  grew  even  less  easy 
to  bear. 

"Look  here,  Donald!" 

Mattie's  lips  were  pressed  together;  her  eyes  were 
steadily  fixed  on  her  husband's  face. 

"  Lois,  dear  baby,  was  wiser  than  we.  The  real 
place  for  most  of  this  impertinent  rubbish  is  the  fire. 
Listen.  From  this  time  on,  if  you  notice  these  un 
known  writers  who  are  crying  give,  give,  you  must 
either  have  a  clerk  and  let  him  come  here  daily,  or 
else  have  a  printed  form,  and  use  it.  The  new  little 
invention,  the  typewriter,  will  be  a  great  help  to  men 
situated  as  you  are.  My  mind  is  made  up,  Don 
ald.  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  have  paralysis  from 
overwork  of  this  sort,  without  a  protest.  Your 
every-day  work  is  more  than  enough  for  one  man 
to  carry." 

"You  maybe  right,"  he  assented  rather  against  his 
will. 

"Certainly  I  am  right,  but  right  or  wrong,  I'm  not 
going  to  stand  by  and  see  you  kill  yourself.  You, 
who  have  been  so  strong,  ought  not  to  break  so  easily 
or  so  soon,  as  you  will  if  this  is  not  stopped." 

"Another  thing,"  said  Mattie,  after  a  pause,  "is 
pressing  on  me.  We've  reached  the  place  where  we 
need  a  country  home.  This  used  to  be  country-like 
here  on  the  hill,  but  the  city  has  been  creeping  up 
ward,  and  we  must  fly  from  it.  We  must  have  a 
place  of  escape." 

Donald  shook  his  head. 

"  I  was  born  and  bred  in  Islington,  my  dear,  and  it 


236  ELEANOR  LEE 

is  good  enough  for  me  still.  1  am  perfectly  satisfied 
with  this  home." 

A  spacious  home  it  was,  with  a  wide  central  hall, 
and  lofty-ceiled  rooms  opening  on  either  side.  Every 
appointment  spoke  of  luxury  and  the  nameless  at 
mosphere  of  wealth  that  need  count  no  item  of  cost, 
filled  it  from  cellar  to  attic.  Donald  felt  no  little  pride 
in  the  solidity  and  subdued  magnificence  of  this  man 
sion,  and  from  time  to  time  he  had  built  here  a  wing, 
there  a  room  or  two,  until  it  had  become,  in  his  view, 
an  ideal  home.  Mattie's  proposition  did  not  com 
mend  itself  to  him,  and,  as  he  was  a  person  whose 
mental  processes  outside  of  business  ruts  were  never 
swift,  as  likewise,  he  was,  with  men  in  general, 
disposed  to  veto  a  domestic  plan  that  did  not  origi 
nate  in  his  own  brain,  he  refused  to  discuss  the 
notion. 

"  Here  we  are.  Here  we  will  stay !  "  he  observed 
with  an  air  of  finality.  Mattie  apparently  dropped 
the  matter. 

Only  apparently.  That  same  day  she  visited  the 
office  of  a  real  estate  agent  and  made  tentative  in 
quiries  about  country  neighborhoods.  She  had  re 
solved  on  buying  a  cottage  for  herself  if  Donald  con 
tinued  to  negative  her  proposal.  Fortunately  for 
Mattie,  she  had  her  own  little  fortune,  which,  under 
her  husband's  good  management,  had  trebled,  and 
she  was  able  to  do  what  she  chose. 

"Are  you  looking  for  a  summer  home,  Mrs. 
Waugh  ?"  asked  the  agent. 

"I  have  not  decided  what  I  will  do  with  it,"  she 
replied.  "Perhaps  I  may  not  occupy  the  place,  but 
I  want  to  buy  a  little  home  that  we  may  step  into  at 


THE  BURDEN  OF  WEALTH    237 

short  notice,  if  we  wish  to  do  so.  I  desire  a  chim 
ney,  a  veranda,  and  a  view,"  she  summed  up  the 
catalogue  of  her  wants  thus  conclusively. 

Meanwhile,  little  Lois,  the  picture  of  sturdy  health, 
began  to  pine  and  require  a  change.  As  soon  as  this 
became  evident,  her  father  concurred  in  her  mother's 
plans.  She  smiled  when  she  heard  him  tell  a  friend 
that  owing  to  their  little  girl's  need  of  fresh  air  and 
more  space,  he  had  been  thinking  of  buying  some 
big  outdoor  place  where  she  might  be  turned  into 
pasture,  like  a  colt. 

"  I  am  quite  sure,"  he  said  most  innocently,  "  that 
the  city  is  not  the  best  place  in  which  to  raise  a 
child."  Again,  after  the  manner  of  men,  he  had 
adopted  his  wife's  suggestion  as  his  own,  and  fancied 
that  he  had  been  the  initial  possessor  of  the  good 
idea.  Lois  drooping  like  a  flower  on  the  stem  was 
potential  in  bringing  about  a  removal  of  the  family 
from  Islington  to  a  higher  altitude  for  several  months. 
The  Islington  home  was  not  closed.  Donald  spent 
some  midweek  days  there,  and  a  trustworthy  house 
keeper  remained  in  charge  with  several  maids,  so 
that  at  any  moment  the  family  could  return,  without 
an  hour's  inconvenience. 

As  for  the  invading  letters,  their  name  was  legion 
still,  but  a  courteous  printed  form  of  acknowledg 
ment  was  substituted  for  the  letter  written  by  hand, 
and  one  straw  was  removed  from  the  load  Donald 
had  to  bear.  By  degrees,  as  Lois  galloped  to  and 
fro  on  her  pony,  fed  the  chickens,  and  learned  to 
take  care  of  a  garden  of  her  very  own,  she  regained 
her  color  and  though  a  weedy,  somewhat  ungainly 
child,  gave  promise  of  grace  when  her  angles  should 


238  ELEANOR   LEE 

be  smoothed,  and  her  form  fill  out.  She  was  more 
than  ever  the  light  of  her  father's  eyes. 

Next  to  her  father,  Lois  had  a  devoted  cavalier  in 
Max  Pomfret.  Why  Max,  with  his  easy-going,  soft- 
voiced,  southern  manner,  his  tendency  to  draw  the 
long  bow,  his  slight  regard  for  obligations  binding 
on  other  men,  and  his  jaunty  indifference  to  money, 
should  have  been  so  great  a  favorite  with  Donald, 
who  was  in  every  quality  a  complete  contrast  to  him, 
nobody  could  explain.  Max,  however,  had  found  the 
key  to  the  big  man's  heart  and  was  ensconced  there, 
as  few  friends  were.  Donald  was  aware  in  himself 
of  an  instinctive  antagonism  which  asserted  its 
presence  many  a  time  when  he  was  with  Harry 
Osbourn.  The  impulse  to  contradict,  to  argue,  to 
take  the  other  side,  was  often  too  strong  for  him 
when  with  Harry,  whom  he  had  befriended  and 
supported  and  tried  to  like  for  Eleanor's  sake.  Dis 
trust  of  Hairy's  ability  kept  pace  with  belief  in  it,  in 
a  strange  paradox,  and  coupled  with  this  was  a 
determined  effort  to  be  more  than  fair,  more  than 
cordial  in  his  intercourse  with  the  man  for  whom  he 
did  not  care.  The  result  was  a  mixture  of  patronage 
in  his  kindest  behavior  which  Harry  was  quick  to 
feel  and  resent. 

Max  Pomfret,  on  the  other  hand,  never  aroused 
antagonism  in  the  breast  of  the  millionaire,  and 
never  was  treated  with  the  slightest  arrogance.  He 
came  into  the  home  on  a  footing  of  equality  and 
brotherly  comradeship,  and  gradually  was  expected 
to  perform  any  number  of  little  friendly  services  for 
Mattie,  to  undertake  her  commissions,  and  to  go  and 
come  almost  when  he  chose.  It  was  he  who 


THE  BURDEN  OF  WEALTH    239 

Taught  Lois  to  ride,  and  when  there  happened  to  be 
no  governess  for  her,  volunteered  to  teach  her  Latin, 
and  trained  her  in  the  first  intricacies  of  English 
grammar.  A  genius  and  an  inventor,  Max  had  long 
been  a  poor  man,  but  he  did  not  disturb  himself 
about  it,  nor  was  he  unduly  elated,  when,  one  morn 
ing,  by  means  of  a  successful  invention,  he  woke  up 
and  discovered  that  he  was  rich.  A  few  more  com 
forts  thereafter  were  sent  to  the  hermitage,  in  which 
his  two  old  sisters  were  quietly  spending  their 
sequestered  lives.  They  had  sunk  into  the  cloistral 
life  once  more,  as  if  they  had  never  left  it.  Oftener 
than  of  old,  Max  disturbed  that  tranquillity,  but  it 
was  his  little  mother  who  was  the  magnet  to  draw 
him.  Between  the  sisters  and  Max  there  was  little 
sympathy.  It  is  nearly  impossible  ever  to  bridge  a 
gulf  which  has  been  made  by  a  long  cessation  of 
common  interests,  and  by  an  unexplained  separation. 
Youth  and  love  and  hope  and  faith  dropped  into  a 
chasm,  are  not  often  drawn  up  again  intact  from  its 
abysmal  depths. 


XXVIII 
LOSING  HIS  GRIP 

*'  TT  TT  ARRY  OSBOURN  is  losing  his  grip." 

I 1      Max  Pomfret  was  lounging  in  a  large 

1  JL  easy  chair.  Donald  Waugh  as  usual  was 
sitting  bolt  upright  in  a  stiff  backed  chair,  disdaining 
ease  of  attitude.  Donald  was  constitutionally  averse 
to  lounging. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Max  puffed  away  intermittently  at  his  pipe  before 
replying.  When  he  spoke  it  was  in  his  soft  Virginian 
drawl,  intensified  by  feeling.  He  was  extremely 
fond  of  Harry. 

"I  mean  that.  He  works  harder  than  ever.  He 
studies  without  ceasing.  But  his  mind  is  jaded. 
He's  like  a  broken-winded  horse.  He's  lost  pluck. 
He  spurs  himself  on  to  hide  his  disheartenments  from 
you  all,  and  that  makes  it  worse.  I  tell  you,  Mr. 
Waugh,  Harry's  losing  his  grip." 

Most  inopportunely,  Harry  walked  in.  Not  a  trace 
of  the  unfortunate  loss  which  Max  described  was 
visible.  He  was  clear-eyed,  well-groomed,  fastidi 
ously  neat,  and  looked  like  a  prosperous  man  with 
whom  the  world  went  well.  Donald  knew  that  his 
practice  was  large,  and  that  whatever  legal  business 
he  had  confided  to  his  care  had  been  safely  carried 
forward.  There  seemed  to  be  no  screw  loose. 

Nevertheless,  though  after  Harry's  departure, 
240 


LOSING  HIS  GRIP          241 

Bonald  jeered  at  him,  Max  Pomfret  reiterated  his 
opinion. 

"  His  wife  doesn't  think  that,"  Donald  finally  said. 

"Not  she.  But  love  can  be  blind.  Poor  woman. 
Something  will  open  her  eyes." 

"Max,  your  prophecies  don't  always  come  true, 
and  your  impressions  are  often  mistaken.  Pick 
somebody  else  out  for  criticism.  Harry  Osbourn's 
all  right." 

No  more  was  said.  Donald  had  too  much  on  his 
hands  to  spend  precious  time  in  speculations  so 
vague  and  discussions  so  fruitless.  At  the  moment 
he  was  engaged  in  the  ordering  of  a  funeral  proces 
sion,  an  affair  of  local  pomp  and  pride.  As  a  lead 
ing  citizen,  many  of  the  preparations  were  brought 
to  him  for  approval,  and  much  of  the  arrangement 
was  laid  upon  him.  The  head  centre  of  Islington 
seemed  to  be  Donald  Waugh's  office. 

A  great  general  had  passed  away.  He  had  been 
an  Islington  man,  and  to  Islington's  new  cemetery  on 
the  hill,  overlooking  the  sea,  he  was  to  be  brought 
for  burial.  The  military  organizations,  the  Grand 
Army  of  the  Republic,  many  civic  orders,  many  private 
citizens  were  to  march  in  array.  Donald  sent  for 
Harry  Osbourn,  and  found  in  him  no  waning  of 
powers  as  they  planned  the  routine  of  the  day.  It 
was  carried  through  without  a  hitch  or  any  mortify 
ing  delay  or  break.  The  last  rites  were  paid  to  Isling 
ton's  hero,  and  he  was  buried  with  the  flag  he  loved 
wrapped  around  his  coffin. 

Processions  were  just  then  the  favorite  methods  of 
signalizing  notable  days  and  dates,  processions  and 
orations.  The  peculiar  joy  of  Islington  focused 


242  ELEANOR   LEE 

around  one  such  fete  which  it  proudly  called  its  own, 
and  which  had  belonged  to  it  since  its  embryo  village 
beginnings.  Once  a  year,  in  the  spring,  the  children 
of  the  Sunday-schools  walked  in  long  gleaming  lines, 
preceded  by  music,  carrying  flowers  and  parasols 
and  flags,  singing  now  and  then  as  they  went  along 
Islington's  main  streets.  It  required  no  little  good 
management  to  unite  the  shining  columns  as  they 
issued  from  the  several  churches,  the  little  girls  in 
white  with  gay  sashes  and  fluttering  ribbons,  the 
boys  in  their  best  suits,  the  ministers  and  deacons  and 
elders  marching  in  their  train,  and  to  bring  this  beau 
tiful  grand  army  of  children  safe  to  the  day's  end. 
Speeches  were  made  in  the  churches,  and  refresh 
ments  were  served.  In  this  particular  year,  Lois 
Waugh  and  Lee  Osbourn  both  trotted  along  in  line, 
their  mothers  walking  with  them,  and  Harry  Osbourn 
achieved  the  rare  distinction  of  making  an  address  to 
the  children  in  one  of  the  largest  churches,  an  address 
the  children  themselves  liked  and  to  which  they  lis 
tened. 

Many  people  can  talk  above  children's  heads. 
Many  can  talk  down  to  children  with  painstaking 
endeavor.  Only  a  few  have  the  art  of  captivating  the 
children,  amusing,  interesting  and  satisfying  them. 
This  art  Harry  possessed. 

Donald  was  reassured.  He  laughed  again  as  he 
thought  of  Max's  owlish  prediction. 

"The  old  fellow's  wrong,"  he  murmured.  "Os- 
bourn's  a  stronger  man  than  ever." 

As  the  children,  having  been  dismissed  from  their 
separate  schools,  were  going  home  in  twos  and 
threes,  and  little  groups,  chatting  over  the,  to  them, 


LOSING  HIS  GRIP          243 

momentous  afternoon,  an  incident  occurred  that  con 
firmed  Donald's  conclusion.  Down  the  street  at 
breakneck  speed  dashed  a  runaway  horse,  dragging 
after  him  a  light  wagon  in  which  with  white  terrified 
faces,  sat  a  lady  and  a  little  girl.  Faster  and  faster 
rushed  the  horse.  The  spectators,  horrified,  expected 
every  second  to  see  the  woman  and  child  thrown  to 
the  pavement.  The  road  was  fortunately  clear  for 
several  blocks,  but  directly  before  the  frantic  horse 
was  a  bridge  with  stone  abutments,  and  the  bridge 
spanned  the  river  that  divided  North  from  South 
Islington. 

Harry  Osbourn  was  sauntering  homeward  slowly, 
with  a  step  that  showed  fatigue.  The  shouts  and 
shrieks  of  the  crowd  aroused  him.  He  heard  the 
thunder  of  the  horse's  hoofs,  the  clatter  of  the  car 
riage.  He  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  lady's  deathly 
pale  face. 

In  an  instant,  quick  as  lightning,  he  strode  directly 
in  front  of  the  horse,  and  caught  the  bridle.  It  was 
a  feat  few  men  could  have  performed  successfully, 
but  this  man  was  tall,  strongly  built,  and  fearless  of 
physical  danger,  and  had  known  and  ruled  horses 
from  his  boyhood.  The  horse  swerved,  stopped 
short,  and  stood  panting. 

Harry  recognized  the  lady  as  a  neighbor.  There 
were  many  hands  ready  to  help  her  from  her  seat  and 
to  lift  down  her  little  child.  A  man  in  the  throng 
stepped  out  to  lead  the  horse  back. 

"Ah,  Mrs.  Lindsay,"  said  Harry,  as  she  uttered 
broken  thanks  in  a  tremulous  voice,  "  don't  thank 
me.  Thank  God,  you  and  the  baby  are  not  killed. 
And  dear  lady,  after  this,  let  me  urge  you,  as  I  urge 


244  ELEANOR  LEE 

my  wife,  never  to  trust  any  horse,  anywhere,  unless 
you  have  hold  of  the  reins." 

"My  brother  Will  was  driving.  He  had  just 
stepped  into  a  store  for  a  second,  and  something,  I 
don't  know  what,  frightened  Firefly,"  she  explained. 

"Well,  remember  my  advice.  A  horse  is  a  vain 
thing  for  safety." 

Harry  continued  his  walk  home.  He  was  tired  and 
shaken  up,  and  his  head  throbbed. 

"  That  a  trifle  like  this  should  upset  me,"  he  mut 
tered.  "  I  must  be  losing  my  grip." 

Once  at  home  and  in  his  own  quiet  den,  a  strange 
thing  happened.  Not  for  years,  not  since  the  hour 
when  he  knelt  at  the  altar  in  the  Methodist  meeting, 
had  the  old  temptation  assailed  Harry  Osbourn.  He 
had  felt  himself  immune  from  that.  Though  men 
had  poured  out  wine  in  his  presence,  though  he  had 
sat  at  dinners  where  toast  after  toast  was  offered 
and  drank  in  sparkling  glasses,  though  he  had  passed 
saloons  whence  the  reek  of  the  liquor  came  out  on 
the  sidewalk,  he  had  not  been  tempted.  To-day, 
for  some  unaccountable  reason,  the  devil  pounced 
upon  him  again  and  took  him  by  the  throat.  The 
lust,  the  desire,  the  rage  of  eager  anxiety,  were  so 
peremptory,  that  the  conflict  was  fierce.  It  shook 
him  literally  as  a  terrier  shakes  a  rat.  He  strove 
against  it  but  weakly,  dumbly,  faint-heartedly. 
Presently  he  slipped  down  the  stairs,  so  furtively 
that  it  was  to  himself,  when  he  opened  his  front 
door,  as  if  he  sneaked  out  of  the  house  and,  with 
rapid  strides,  made  for  the  nearest  drug  store. 

"  Give  me  a  half-pint  of  your  best  brandy  for  me 
dicinal  use,"  he  said  to  the  clerk,  paying  for  the  bottle 


LOSING  HIS  GRIP  245 

when  it  was  handed  him,  and  sheltering  it  under  his 
light  overcoat,  as  if  it  were  something  precious. 

A  physician  who  was  standing  back  of  the  pre 
scription  counter  observed  the  glitter  in  Harry's  eyes, 
and  the  quick  almost  feverish  clutch  of  his  hand  as 
he  took  the  bottle  from  the  clerk. 

"  If  I  did  not  know  Osbourn  for  a  teetotaller,"  he 
said,  "I  would  fancy  he  had  at  some  time  been  a 
drunkard." 

"  Mr.  Osbourn  ?"  the  proprietor  asked,  "the  law 
yer  who  lives  just  round  the  corner  ?  He  never 
drinks." 

"  I  know  it,"  answered  the  doctor. 

Harry  went  home.  The  mocking  devil  that  dogged 
his  footsteps,  invisible  but  real,  slipped  over  the  door 
sill  with  him,  and  its  black  shadow  crossed  the  hall 
and  entered  Harry's  room. 

"  Father  dear  ?  "called  a  little  voice. 

"  Yes,  Lee,  my  laddie." 

"  It's  been  a  buful  time,  father.  I'm  goin'  to  say 
my  prayers." 

The  father  turned  the  key  of  his  desk  on  the  black 
bottle  and  came  into  the  nursery.  The  little  child 
knelt  at  his  knee,  white  robed  for  bed,  his  curls 
damp  against  his  pure  forehead. 

"I  can  say,  'Our  Father  in  Heaven  '  now,  as  well 
as  'Now  I  lay  me,'"  said  the  little  one  proudly. 
Slowly,  reverently,  petition  after  petition  fell  from 
the  baby  lips. 

The  mocking  devil  retreated,  for  just  then,  invisible 
too,  but  most  real,  a  bright  angel  winged  its  way 
straight  from  the  throne,  and  its  white  radiance  en 
folded  father  and  child. 


246  ELEANOR   LEE 

An  angel  sent  on  one  of  God's  errands,  to 
strengthen  a  tempted  man.  Harry  knelt  by  Lee's 
crib  and  prayed  for  himself,  and  God  heard  amid 
the  seraphim  and  answered  swiftly,  an  answer  of 
peace. 

Eleanor  kissed  her  husband  and  her  boy.  She  was 
in  white.  Harry  liked  her  best  in  that,  and  she  wore 
it  much  at  home.  Her  dress  fell  around  her  in 
straight  folds,  severe,  almost  classic.  Her  husband 
did  not  tell  her  of  the  adventure  he  had  had  in  com 
ing  home,  but  she  saw  that  he  was  tired,  and  she 
felt  a  new  tenderness  in  the  embrace  he  gave  her. 
He  held  her  closely,  in  arms  that  were  loath  to  let 
her  go,  and  kissed  her  with  lingering  fondness. 

"Sweetheart,"  he  murmured. 

"Yes,  dearest,"  she  answered,  gently  removing 
herself  from  his  hold. 

"Don't  do  that,"  he  whispered,  "don't  take  your 
self  away  from  me,  Eleanor.  You  are  my  own.  I 
love  you.  I  love  you.  Darling,  if  anything  should 
happen  to  me,  you  would  be  sorry,  wouldn't  you  ?" 

"  If  anything  should  happen  to  you,  Harry,  it 
would  kill  me,  but  nothing  is  going  to  happen.  Why 
be  so  tragic,  dear  ?  Dinner  will  be  ready  presently, 
and  you  are  not  dressed.  Please  make  haste." 

In  his  mood,  her  aloofness  and  her  commonplace 
request  to  hurry  and  dress  for  dinner,  jarred  on  the 
man.  How  singular  it  is  that  we  are  so  dense  at 
times  with  our  best  beloved.  The  devil  came  a  little 
nearer,  the  angel  drew  a  little  away.  But,  angel 
and  devil,  both  unseen,  saw  one  another,  and  the 
angel's  shield  was  proof  against  the  demon's  darts. 

Harry  went  on   with  his  dressing.     Once,  twice, 


LOSING  HIS  GRIP          247 

thrice,  he  turned  to  the  locked  desk.     But  he  went  on 
dressing. 

From  the  drawing-room  below  floated  up  the 
sweet  voice  of  his  wife,  as  she  sat  at  the  piano.  It 
was  a  familiar  hymn  that  Eleanor  loved. 

"  There  is  a  green  hill  far  away 

Beyond  a  city  wall, 
Where  the  dear  Lord  was  crucified, 
Who  died  to  save  us  all." 

Triumphantly  the  words  rose,  and  borne  on  the 
silvery  voice  brought  their  message  to  his  ear,  as  the 
tempted  man  strove  with  the  old  demon. 

"A  green  hill  far  away."  Yes,  and  on  it  a  cross, 
and  on  that  cross  One  mighty  to  save.  Harry  Os- 
bourn  had  a  vision  of  that  figure  with  the  nails  in  His 
hands  and  His  feet. 

He  went  to  the  desk,  unlocked  it,  opened  his  win 
dow,  and  threw  the  black  bottle  out,  far  out,  over 
the  garden,  into  a  vacant  lot  where  it  fell,  shattered 
among  stones  and  shards  and  rubbish.  The  van 
quished  devil  fled.  The  angel  lingered  a  moment  to 
drop  a  blessing  over  little  Lee  asleep  in  his  white 
bed.  Harry  went  down  to  dinner.  His  wife  was 
still  singing. 


XXIX 
IN  THE  ROSE  GARDEN  AGAIN 

THE  air  of  Islington  vibrated  with  excite 
ment,  and  every  household  felt  the  atmos 
pheric  conditions  that  followed  the  strike, 
rich  and  poor  being  bound  in  one  bundle  there  as 
everywhere.    Tranquillity  had  flown  from  the  scene. 
People  were  in  the  ground-swell  of   an  agitation 
foreign  to  their  experience,  and  not  for  some  weeks 
or  months  could  former  relations  be  entirely  restored 
and  former  prosperity  return. 

One  day  Eleanor  received  a  cry  for  help  from 
Clivedon.  Not  yet  had  it  reached  the  prominence  in 
business  that  had  been  anticipated,  although  it  was 
making  progress,  and  its  features  of  a  reposeful  vil 
lage  were  essentially  the  same.  Shops  had  not  in 
vaded  the  residential  part  of  the  southern  seaport,  and 
the  detached  homes  stood  as  of  old  in  the  shadow  of 
their  vines  and  fig-trees.  To  the  Pomfret  girls  there 
seemed  no  change,  as  they  settled  down  to  the  famil 
iar  routine  of  their  wools  and  silks,  their  Scripture 
pieces,  and  endless  monotony  of  fine  embroidery  and 
tapestry.  Their  home  was  fragrant  with  potpourri; 
their  garden  rich  with  roses.  They  never  observed 
that  their  mother  was  growing  daily  more  ethereal, 
that  she  had  to  rest  frequently,  that  she  tottered 
when  she  walked.  Had  any  one  hinted  it,  their 
feelings  would  have  been  indignant.  Their 

248 


IN  THE  ROSE  GARDEN    249 

belonged  to  their  world,  and  they  never  thought  of 
losing  her. 

A  great  shock  came  to  them  when  after  a  brief  ill 
ness  she  passed  away.  They  had  so  absolutely  de 
pended  upon  her  for  every  detail  of  their  days,  much 
like  children  in  the  nursery,  that  their  bewilderment 
was  pitiful.  Max  went  to  his  mother's  funeral,  but 
could  not  stay  long  after  it,  and  when  he  told  the 
Osbourns  how  desolate  Clemmie  and  Dora  were,  how 
impossible  it  was  for  them  to  resume  their  life,  and 
how  they  wandered  to  and  fro  wringing  their  hands, 
and  looking  like  wan  ghosts,  Eleanor  was  beyond 
measure  distressed. 

"  Pick  up  the  boy  and  go  to  them,  dearest,'1  said 
her  husband.  "  Make  them  a  little  visit.  It  will  do 
them  a  lot  of  good,  and  it  won't  hurt  you.  I'd  like 
you  to  go  to  some  stiller  place  than  Islington  for  a 
breathing-spell." 

"Can  you  go  too?" 

"I  wish  I  could,  but  I'm  too  busy.  I  cannot  even 
think  of  it,"  Harry  said. 

"Then  I  don't  see  how  I  can  be  spared.  You 
cannot  keep  bachelor's  hall  in  any  sort  of  com 
fort." 

"For  a  fortnight?  Why  not?  Pomfret  will  stay 
with  me,  if  you  like.  'Tis  your  Christian  duty, 
Nellie,  to  cheer  up  those  forlorn  little  ladies.  Pray 
be  persuaded." 

Eleanor  considered,  and  to  aid  her  decision  there 
arrived  a  woeful  letter  written  in  Miss  Dora's  prim 
crabbed,  old-fashioned  hand.  She  could  not  refuse 
an  invitation  that  was  so  pleading,  and  with  her  boy 
and  his  nurse,  she  again  sought  the  city  by  the  sea, 


250  ELEANOR  LEE 

where  the  rose  blooms  till  the  short  winter  melts  into 
the  fervid  spring,  and  the  violets  smile  up  into  the 
February  sky. 

What  a  welcome  she  received!  The  Pomfret 
house  had  been  sought  by  friendly  callers  ever  since 
its  dear  old  mistress  had  gone  through  its  doors  to 
heaven,  and  now  when  Eleanor  Osbourn  came,  by 
some  swift  conveyance  of  intelligence  everybody 
knew  it.  Doctor  and  Mrs.  Abbott,  the  Moores,  and 
the  entire  neighborhood,  made  haste  to  bring  good 
wishes,  and  the  black  people,  those  who  had  served 
in  Eleanor's  kitchen,  came  too.  The  baby  was  an 
object  of  admiration,  and  his  mother  did  not  try  to 
conceal  her  pride  in  his  sturdy  good  looks  and  won 
derful  good  behavior. 

She  did  what  she  came  to  do,  diverted  the  two  old 
spinsters,  so  fragile  and  wan  in  their  dessicated  ma 
turity,  so  juvenile  in  their  acquaintance  with  the 
actual  world,  and  led  them  to  see  that  they  ought 
not  to  sit  down  in  despair.  They  talked  continually 
about  their  mother,  and  tiptoed  around  after  Eleanor, 
barring  the  shutters  she  opened  and  tying  them  up 
with  black  ribbon,  giving  the  house  the  look  and  air 
of  a  tomb. 

"Miss  Dora,"  Eleanor  expostulated,  "if  your  dear 
mother  were  here  would  she  want  you  and  Miss 
Clemmie  to  shut  out  the  light,  and  go  about  with 
such  doleful  faces?" 

"No,  Mrs.  Osbourn,  but  respect  for  her  memory 
makes  it  incumbent  on  us  to  do  this.  Besides  it  is 
the  custom." 

"  Do  you  believe  in  another  life  ?  " 

"Certainly." 


IN  THE  ROSE  GARDEN    251 

"  Do  you  believe  that  your  mother  has  gone  to 
heaven  ?" 

"Of  course.  Mother  was  a  consistent  Christian 
while  she  was  here.  She  said  she  was  glad  to  go  to 
her  Saviour.  She  was  worried  about  nothing.  Oh, 
not  even  about  Max,  and  that  astonished  sister  and 
me.  At  the  very  end,  her  face  lit  up  with  the  most 
beautiful  smile  you  ever  saw  and  she  reached  out  her 
hands,  and  cried  out  joyfully,  '  Why,  Jack! ' ' 

"  Who  was  Jack  ?" 

"  Our  father.     He  died  when  we  all  were  young." 

"  Now,  Miss  Dora,  to  me  it  is  the  strangest  contra 
diction  the  way  people  act,  precisely  as  if  their  dear 
ones  were  gone  forever,  or  taken  to  some  state  of 
torment,  closing  doors  and  windows,  and  actually 
making  a  cult  of  their  sorrow.  It  isn't  Christian, 
dear,  it  isn't  even  pagan,  it's,  well  I  don't  know 
what  to  call  it,  except  that  it  dishonors  the  Lord,  and 
does  the  dear  ones  no  good.  When  my  father  died, 
mother  wouldn't  have  a  blind  closed,  and  we  kept 
flowers  in  every  room,  for  we  knew  he  wanted  us 
to  be  cheerful.  Don't  you  think  you  and  Miss 
Clemmie  can  try  my  plan,  and  not  mourn  in  this  de 
pressing  way  ?  " 

"  Clemmie  will  do  whatever  I  say,"  replied  Dora. 

"  So  I  fancied.  And  that's  why  I'm  coaxing  you 
to  be  brave  for  her  sake." 

Suddenly  Miss  Dora  put  her  hands  before  her  face, 
and  with  a  great  sob  broke  down,  and  cried, 

"  Mrs.  Osbourn,  we  can  do  it  while  you  stay  here, 
but  what  shall  we  do  when  you  go  home?  For 
mother  walks  around  at  night,  and  we're  frightened, 
Clemmie  and  I.  I  believe  she  walks  in  the  daytime 


252  ELEANOR  LEE 

too.  I  wouldn't  dare  go  into  the  parlor  alone,  any 
time,  and  only  last  evening,  when  I  was  taking  the 
things  out  of  her  bureau  drawers,  1  felt  her  touch  my 
arm,  and  I  glanced  in  the  mirror,  and  I  saw  her 
there,  looking  so  vexed.  She  never  liked  us  to  med 
dle  with  her  things.  An  instant  after  she  was  gone, 
but  I  heard  her  say,  '  Don't,  Dora.'" 

Eleanor  listened,  half  doubting  her  sense  of  sight 
and  hearing.  Then  she  came  to  a  swift  decision. 

"Miss  Dora,"  she  said,  "your  nerves  are  all  un 
strung.  You  cannot  stay  in  Clivedon  at  present. 
You  and  Clemmie  are  to  turn  the  key  in  the  door, 
and  go  home  with  me  to  Islington.  I'll  telegraph 
your  brother  and  Harry,  and  we'll  start  to-morrow 
morning." 

The  sisters  were  as  helpless  as  captive  doves,  and 
Eleanor  made  every  arrangement  for  them,  going  to 
make  her  farewell  visits  while  they  rested  in  the  af 
ternoon.  She  strolled  in  their  rose  garden,  and  ask 
ing  permission  of  the  present  resident,  went  into  her 
own  old  one  and  into  the  house  that  had  been  hers, 
and  sat  in  the  remembered  rooms.  In  the  sunset,  she 
lingered  on  the  veranda  and  looked  dreamily  over  the 
blue  Elizabeth  River,  whitened  by  many  sails.  From 
the  navy  yard,  not  far  away,  floated  the  strains  of 
"The  Star  Spangled  Banner."  The  spell  of  the  South 
land  was  on  Eleanor;  she  wished  she  might  stay 
forever  here  in  the  outdoor  country,  where  all  was 
so  blithe,  so  captivating,  so  heartsome.  The  sunset 
paled,  a  rosy  afterglow  suffused  the  west,  and  she 
rose  and  went  back  to  comfort  the  timid  mourners  in 
the  house  beyond. 

At  sunset  the  next  day,  the  Old  Dominion  steamer 


IN  THE  ROSE  GARDEN    253 

was  ploughing  its  way  through  the  Chesapeake,  and 
the  Pomfret  sisters  were  on  board,  in  the  shadow  of 
Eleanor's  wing.  She  knew  that  the  dear  mother  did 
not  walk  about  her  house  for  the  torment  of  her  chil 
dren,  and  she  knew  that  they  would  know  it  too, 
once  they  regained  their  poise.  It  was  Dora's  own 
face  in  the  glass,  that  had  looked  like  her  mother's; 
the  likeness  was  plain.  But  Eleanor  could  not  have 
left  the  two  poor  things  to  dree  their  weird  alone. 
She  cared  for  them  as  if  they  were  little  children. 


XXX 
TROUBLE  THAT  WAS  NOT  FORESEEN 

HOME  was  not  reached  a  day  too  soon.  Max 
met  the  travellers  as  the  boat  touched  the 
pier. 

"  Where  is  Harry  ?  "  Eleanor  looked  around  for 
her  husband,  disappointed  that  he  was  not  the  first 
to  greet  her. 

"  Harry  ?  "  Max  repeated  her  question.  Then  she 
saw,  shouldering  his  way  through  the  crowd  of  peo 
ple,  not  Harry,  but  Donald,  and  he  grasped  her  hand 
warmly,  saying,  "You've  had  a  rough  voyage, 
haven't  you  ?  But  here  you  are." 

"Where's  Harry?"  Eleanor  was  by  this  time 
thoroughly  alarmed. 

Now,  Donald  had  come  expressly  that  he  might 
keep  Eleanor  from  alarm  until  she  was  safe  from 
curious  eyes,  within  her  own  doors.  So  he  guided 
her  towards  a  carriage,  and  managed  to  get  her 
safely  in  it,  then  stepped  in  and  took  a  seat  beside 
her,  first  giving  a  direction  to  the  driver.  Eleanor 
heard  it. 

"No,"  she  said,  "I'll  go  to  my  own  house, 
Donald." 

"  Mattie  said " 

"  Never  mind  what  Mattie  said.  I  must  go  home. 
Is  Harry  dead  ?  " 

"  Harry  dead  ?  What  a  question!  No,  Eleanor.  I 
254 


TROUBLE  NOT  FORESEEN   255 

t 
saw  Harry  yesterday,  as  well  as  ever,  and  very  gay 

and  cheery." 

"  Then  what  has  happened  ?  Is  he  ill  ?  Has  there 
been  an  accident  ?  " 

"That's  what  we  do  not  know.  Nobody  has 
seen  him  since  nine  o'clock  yesterday  morning." 

"  You  seem  to  have  made  a  mystery  to  very  little 
purpose,"  said  Eleanor  haughtily.  "No  doubt  my 
husband  wished  to  give  me  a  surprise  and  has  gone 
to  Clivedon  by  train.  Have  you  telegraphed  to  find 
out?" 

"  We  have  telegraphed,  but  have  ascertained  noth 
ing.  Here  we  are,  and  here's  Mattie.  She  said  to 
bring  you  to  our  house.  Why  did  she  come  here  ?" 

"You  said  that,  Donald,"  said  Mattie,  "I  knew 
Eleanor  would  come  straight  home,  so  I  slipped 
around  to  meet  her.  Max  has  taken  his  sisters  to 
our  house.  Eleanor  dear,  come  and  have  a  cup  of 
tea.  You  look  white  and  faint." 

Mrs.  Lee  came  forward  and  drew  Eleanor  into  her 
arms. 

"Oh,  mother,"  she  cried,  "what  can  it  mean? 
What  has  happened  to  my  husband  ?" 

"  I  hope  nothing  serious,  dearest.  But  don't  break 
down,  you  may  need  your  strength." 

"  I  shall  not  break  down,  I  am  not  goint  to  faint." 

She  drank  the  tea  that  Mattie  poured,  and  then  ate 
bread  and  butter.  Though  people's  souls  are  on  the 
rack  of  anxiety  and  their  hearts  breaking,  cups  of  tea 
and  plates  of  bread  and  butter  will  be  offered  them  to 
the  end  of  time. 

"  I  thank  you  so  much  for  coming  to  meet  me," 
she  said  to  Donald.  "Now  I'll  go  and  see  my  little 


256  ELEANOR  LEE 

tired  boy  to  his  bed.  Mother,  have  you  searched 
my  desk  and  room  ?  Did  Harry  leave  any  note  for 
me?" 

"  Not  a  scrap  of  paper,  Eleanor." 

At  the  door  she  turned  with  her  hand  on  the  knob, 
and  looked  searchingly  at  Donald  Waugh.  The  man's 
face  was  leonine  as  ever,  though  the  red  hair  was 
sprinkled  with  gray.  The  shrewd  eyes  answered 
hers  from  a  pent  house  of  shaggy  overhanging 
brows. 

"Donald,  do  you  know  of  any  reason  why  Harry 
should  run  away  ?  Is  there  any  occasion  for  it  ?  Be 
frank  with  me  for  old  friendship's  sake." 

"On  my  honor,  Eleanor,  there  is  no  reason." 

"So  I  would  have  sworn.  Then  I  am  to  blame, 
for  having  deserted  my  post.  I  should  not  have  left 
him  for  a  single  day." 

"  My  child,"  pleaded  her  mother,  "don't  speak  so. 
Don't  be  morbid.  You  have  done  right,  always 
right,  my  child." 

"God  knows,"  sighed  Eleanor. 

She  went  up-stairs  and  undressed  her  boy  herself, 
putting  him  to  bed  in  his  crib,  even  singing  to  him. 
When  he  was  fast  asleep  she  still  lingered,  holding 
close  the  dimpled  hand. 

What  was  it  she  feared  ?  She  literally  did  not 
know.  The  thing  that  had  terrified  her,  weeks  be 
fore,  when  Harry  was  on  the  brink  of  nervous  ex 
haustion,  had  receded;  it  had  been  to  her  thought 
safe  to  leave  him.  He  was  again  absorbed  in  his 
work,  and  perfectly  normal. 

When  she  came  down  to  dinner,  a  man  in  the  uni 
form  of  a  captain  of  police  came  forward  to  meet  her. 


TROUBLE  NOT  FORESEEN    257 

V 

She  recognized  him  at  once.  He  had  been  a  soldier 
in  Harry's  company  in  the  old  war  days. 

"Why,  Tom  Meredith!  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Mr.  Waugh  sent  the  captain's  description  to  head 
quarters,  but  said  that  nothing  was  to  get  into  the 
papers.  I  came  around  to  see  if  I  could  be  of  service. 
Captain  Osbourn  had  no  enemies  ?" 

"None  that  we  know  of." 

"Did  he  make  any  during  the  strike ? " 

"I  can  testify  that  he  did  not,"  said  Donald  em 
phatically. 

"  Was  he  in  the  habit  of  carrying  much  money  ?" 

"No,"  replied  Eleanor. 

"Can  you  ascertain  what  money  he  had  when  he 
left  home?" 

"Probably  yes,  by  inquiry  at  the  bank  to-mor 
row." 

The  police  captain  hesitated.  His  next  question,  in 
a  very  low  voice,  was  not  meant  to  be  audible  to 
Eleanor.  Nevertheless  she  heard  it,  and  responded. 

"Was  he  possibly  interested  in  any  one  beside  his 
wife?" 

"For  shame,  Tom  Meredith!"  exclaimed  Eleanor. 
"  You  to  ask  that!  You  should  know  your  old  cap 
tain  better." 

The  policeman  looked  embarrassed. 

Donald  Waugh  smiled  confidently. 

"Don't  take  up  that  theory,  Meredith.  There's 
nothing  in  it.  My  only  fear  is  that  Mr.  Osbourn  has 
become  temporarily  insane." 

Graven  on  Eleanor's  mind  as  with  the  point  of  a 
diamond  were  the  days  and  nights  that  followed. 
Dora  and  Clemmie  Pomfret  having  once  known  an 


258  ELEANOR  LEE 

experience  not  unlike  hers,  forgot  their  own  sorrow 
in  supporting  her.  Mrs.  Lee  and  Kathleen  left  their 
home  to  stay  in  the  house  of  suspense.  Everything 
went  on  as  usual,  except  that  the  veil  of  an  impene 
trable  silence  had  dropped  between  Harry  Osbourn 
and  his  home. 

Had  any  one  foretold  that  to  Eleanor  should  come 
this  special  form  of  keen  torture,  the  wearing  anxiety 
of  prolonged  suspense,  with  no  reason  to  justify  it, 
she  would  have  scouted  the  idea.  Nor  could  any 
one  have  predicted  that  she  would  bear  it  as  she 
did;  patiently,  perseveringly,  bravely  following  every 
offered  clue,  refusing  to  give  up  hope,  and,  after  a 
little,  wearing  a  face  that  if  not  bright  was  at  least 
calm,  and  strong. 

"Your  sister  is  the  most  extraordinary  woman  I 
ever  saw,"  said  Dick  Deland  to  Kathleen.  "I'll  tell 
you  what  I  think.  You  know  Harry  had  a  slight 
sunstroke  the  year  before  they  came  back  to  Isling 
ton?" 

"Yes,  what  of  it?" 

"It  may  have  left  some  sequence,  that  none  of  us 
have  thought  of.  Dr.  Abbott  wrote  me  that  he  be 
lieved  that  it  might  be  accountable  for  this.  Harry 
may  have  been  hurt,  and  haye  forgotten  his  own 
identity.  Or,  he  may  be  just  a  little  off  his  balance." 

"If  he  is  in  his  right  mind,  and  he's  letting  Eleanor 
suffer  as  she  does,  I,  for  one,  shall  never  speak  to  him 
again." 

"The  worst  of  it  is,"  said  poor  Dick  ruefully,  "it 
is  putting  off  our  wedding.  But,  sweetheart,  do  you 
believe  we  ought  to  wait  indefinitely,  now  that  we 
may  marry  when  we  choose?" 


TROUBLE  NOT  FORESEEN    259 

"My  dear  Dick,  what  would  Eleanor  say  if  we 
broke  in  on  her  sorrow  with  wedding  bells?" 

"  Let's  ask  your  mother." 

They  did.  To  their  surprise,  Mrs.  Lee  agreed  with 
Dick,  that  obstacles  having  been  removed,  Kathleen 
and  he  should  wait  no  longer. 

Dick's  people  had  been  a  drag  on  him.  His  parents 
had  required  his  help.  He  had  been  working  stren 
uously  to  support  his  brothers  and  sisters  and  educate 
them.  For  him,  the  strain  was  now  over,  and  as  his 
engagement  and  Kathleen's  had  already  been  a  long 
one,  Mrs.  Lee  was  unwilling  to  let  it  continue  longer. 
The  wedding  was  very  quiet,  but  Eleanor  attended 
it,  carrying  herself  with  a  fortitude  that  was  queenly. 

As  the  newly-married  pair  stepped  into  the  carriage 
that  was  to  convey  them  to  the  train  for  their  wed 
ding  journey,  Dick  whispered  something  to  Eleanor. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said.  The  suggestion  was  to  make 
a  thorough  search  of  the  little  hamlet  in  Ohio,  where 
Harry  Osbourn  had  grown  up.  His  family  had  long 
since  died,  or  moved  away,  few  people  in  the  place 
would  remember  him,  yet  Dick  felt  that  he  might  be 
hiding  there.  They  had  looked  everywhere  else. 

Eleanor  went  home  to  her  lonely  house  and  laid 
aside  her  rich  gown,  folding  it  with  care.  Her  heart 
was  very  sore,  yet  she  tried  to  be  glad  that  Kathleen's 
happy  day  had  come.  The  temptation  to  fear,  even 
for  Kathleen,  was  a  sharp  one,  but  Eleanor  resolved 
bravely,  then  and  there,  that  no  grief  of  hers  should 
ever  make  her  hard  or  skeptical,  as  to  the  truth  and 
joy  in  the  world,  or  take  from  her  the  habit  of  sym 
pathy.  God  helping  her,  she  would  trample  sorrow 
under  her  feet,  except  when  only  God  could  see. 


XXXI 
THY  GOLD  TO  REFINE 

EVERY  possible  inquiry  as  to  Harry  Osbourn's 
disappearance  from  his  usual  haunts  had  of 
course  been  made.  At  home  the  servants  de 
clared  that  he  had  breakfasted  in  the  ordinary  leisurely 
manner,  read  his  morning  paper  and  gone  out  as 
usual,  with  nothing  at  all  differing  from  the  course  he 
always  pursued.  The  office  people  confirmed  the 
impression  thus  made  of  his  having  been  altogether 
himself,  and  t'.ie  judge  before  whom  he  had  last  ap 
peared  in  an  inquiry  of  some  importance,  emphasized 
the  statement  that  in  his  opinion,  the  man  had  been 
perfectly  poised  and  mentally  clear.  That  was  con 
clusive  testimony  as  to  the  day  before. 

Some  weeks  after  Eleanor's  return,  a  gentleman 
called  on  her,  whose  voice  and  manner  were  vaguely 
familiar,  touching  some  far  away  note  of  association, 
although  it  was  so  faint  and  evanescent  a  note,  that 
she  tried  to  dismiss  it  from  her  mind  as  she  con 
versed  with  the  white  haired  stranger,  a  man  whose 
erect  figure  time  had  not  bent,  whose  dark  eyes  time 
had  not  dimmed. 

After  a  little  talk,  he  said  with  a  certain  hesitation, 
"Mrs.  Osbourn,  it  seems  to  be  my  fate  to  be  mixed 
up  with  the  chief  sorrows  of  your  life.  I  am  the 
man  who  came  years  ago,  from  Aldis,  to  tell  you  of 
your  father's  death." 

260 


GOLD  TO  REFINE     261 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Eleanor.  "I  remember  you 
now." 

"I  may  explain  that  I  am  an  old  acquaintance  of 
your  husband  s  family,  and  that  1  have  known  him 
from  boyhood.  A  short  time  after  he  vanished  from 
Islington  he  called  on  me  in  Aldis;  he  said  that  he 
was  passing  northward  on  business,  and  mentioned 
that  you  were  in  the  South.  It  was  then  I  learned 
that  he  had  married  Judge  Lee's  daughter." 

"Did  Harry  seem  troubled,  or  in  any  way 
strange  ?" 

"Not  in  the  least.  And  he  was  well  provided 
with  money.  He  took  pains  to  let  me  see  a  large 
roll  of  bills.  This  is  all  I  can  tell  you." 

The  strange  visitor  withdrew,  and  Eleanor  realized 
that  for  the  second  time  she  had  encountered  him, 
and  he  had  not  given  her  his  name.  He  had  this 
time  brought  a  little  comfort,  being  the  first  person 
who  had  conveyed  tangible  evidence  that  Harry  was 
alive  and  going  somewhere  of  his  own  volition,  some 
hours  after  Islington's  dust  had  been  shaken  from  his 
feet. 

In  later  years  Eleanor  Osbourn  was  wont  to  say 
that  the  experiences  of  this  critical  time  on  which 
she  had  entered  divided  her  life  into  two  continents 
with  a  gulf  between.  Outwardly  she  governed  her 
self  so  well  that  some  thought  her  cold,  and  others 
did  not  suspect  how  great  was  the  strain  her  mental 
ity  endured.  The  words  of  Dick  Deland  at  the  train 
made  a  very  slight  ripple  in  her  thought,  as  she 
knew  that  Harry  had  few  recollections  of  childhood 
strong  enough  to  draw  him  back  to  the  bare  little 
Ohio  village  which  he  had  never  greatly  loved.  Dick 


262  ELEANOR   LEE 

and  Kathleen,  having  all  America  in  which  to  choose 
the  objective  point  of  their  wedding  journey,  selected 
the  small  unromantic  spot  which  had  been  Harry's 
birthplace,  and  spent  a  happy  honeymoon  there,  in 
an  environment  different  from  any  they  had  ever 
known.  They  found  no  trace  of  the  fugitive,  yet  did 
not  regret  their  own  course. 

Eleanor,  while  patiently  extending  her  researches  in 
every  direction,  resolved  to  take  up  her  small  daily 
duties  as  if  nothing  had  happened  and  to  preserve 
her  health  for  Lee's  sake  and  her  mother's.  Little 
Lee,  too  young  to  understand  any  lack  was  the 
greatest  possible  comfort  and  next  to  him  were  those 
two  babes  in  the  woods,  Miss  Clemmie  and  Miss 
Dora,  who  settled  down  into  the  novel  routine  of 
Northern  life,  with  a  positive  pleasure,  that  the  sad 
ness  of  the  home  did  not  suffice  to  chill. 

Waiting  time  is  never  easy  time.  When  one  bears 
it  with  tears  and  idle  hands  and  listless  longing  for 
coming  days  and  half-hearted  hopes,  it  eats  into  the 
very  secrets  of  vitality,  like  a  corroding  rust.  Once 
before  Eleanor  had  waited  for  tidings,  but  it  was  an 
other  waiting  now.  Then  she  was  buoyed  up  by  a 
great  occasion;  her  sorrow  wore  the  purple  z' 
royalty;  many  another  woman  was  in  like  case  with 
herself;  if  her  husband  were  never  heard  from,  his 
name  would  be  inscribed  on  his  country's  roll  of 
deathless  honor.  Then  she  was  young,  intolerant  of 
pain,  torn  by  an  anguish  that  derided  consolation. 
Now  she  was  older,  she  had  been  tried  in  the  fire 
of  varied  suffering;  her  faith  had  grown  deeper  and 
stronger.  This  new  grief  was  robed  in  ashen  gray 
— there  was  no  reason  that  man  could  see  for  its 


GOLD  ro  REFINE   263 

coming.  Eleanor  felt  the  hand  of  God  heavy  upon 
her.  Nevertheless  she  made  careful  toilettes  day  by 
day,  she  went  out  as  usual  in  all  weathers,  she 
visited  the  sick,  and  devoted  herself  more  than  ever 
to  her  mother,  whose  eyes  were  almost  blind,  and 
who  needed  some  one's  ministrations.  Eleanor  read 
many  hours  of  every  week  to  Mrs.  Lee,  history, 
poetry  and  stories,  chatting  with  her  of  the  events  of 
the  time  as  related  in  the  press,  and  deliberately  step 
ping  outside  herself,  that  she  might  make  sunshine  for 
others.  Here  was  the  true  philosophy,  better  than 
mere  resignation  or  plaintive  acquiescence.  She  met 
and  faced  each  day's  sharp  access  of  loneliness  and 
pain  with  an  indomitable  courage. 

The  Hall  of  Rest  under  Miss  Rachel's  motherly 
management  was  by  this  time,  the  real  social  centre 
of  Old  Field  Hollow.  After  the  strike,  the  privations 
of  the  women  and  children  had  led  them  to  seek  relief 
at  the  hall,  and  Miss  Rachel  had  found  herself  at  the 
head  of  an  informal  cooking  and  sewing  school. 
Under  her  management  the  hall  grew  into  something 
like  an  old-fashioned  home,  with  a  small  h,  and  bust 
ling  personage  though  she  might  be,  she  never  found 
fault  with  tired  women  who  came  there  to  sit  with 
folded  hands. 

From  the  first  she  was  certain  that  Harry's  absence 
would  be  somehow  explained,  and  that  he  would  re 
turn,  and  her  sunny  optimism  did  much  to  save  those 
interested  from  morbidness.  When  Eleanor  with 
the  resolutely  restrained  pain  in  her  face,  hidden 
under  a  smile,  came  in  to  teach  the  Bible  class  she 
had  again  gathered  about  her,  or  to  sing  at  one  of 
the  little  evening  services,  Miss  Rachel's  true  heart 


264  ELEANOR   LEE 

was  glad  and  proud;  she  loved  strength  in  man  or 
woman,  most  of  all  in  woman. 

The  puzzling,  baffling,  almost  maddening  thing  to 
every  one  was  the  complete  absence  of  motive. 
Why  had  Harry  gone  ?  As  time  passed  the  mystery 
deepened.  It  settled  down  on  Eleanor  like  a  dead 
weight  for  all  her  bravery,  and  long  after  others 
ceased  to  speak  of  it,  she  scanned  newspapers, 
visited  almshouses,  hospitals,  and  morgues,  and 
started  at  a  sudden  noise,  as  if  a  cold  hand  had  been 
laid  on  her  shoulder. 

Donald  Waugh  was  filled  with  anger  at  the  man 
who  could  thus  try  a  woman's  spirit. 

"He  has  deliberately  crushed  her  under  the  most 
tormenting  anxiety  a  wife  can  suffer,"  he  said,  "and 
for  no  reason  under  heaven." 

"Never,  if  Harry  were  himself,  would  he  have 
done  such  a  thing,"  said  Mattie.  "Eleanor  loves 
him  still  and  trusts  him,  so  why  do  you  vex  yourself 
so  much  ?  I  think  it  is  unlike  you,  Donald." 

The  man  did  not  continue  the  subject.  His  wife 
did. 

"You  are  exactly  like  old  Mrs.  O'Halligan  when 
little  Tim  was  lost.  So  long  as  they  thought  the 
child  was  drowned  or  run  over  on  the  railroad,  she 
wept  and  wrung  her  hands,  but  when  Tim  was 
found  and  brought  home,  she  was  furious  and  shook 
him  till  he  couldn't  speak.  That's  what  you  would 
do." 

"I  know  that  kind  of  temper,"  laughed  Donald. 
"It  has  a  good  deal  of  human  nature  in  it,  Mattie. 
But  Harry  is  not  here,  so  your  parallel  is  not 
justified." 


THY  GOLD  TO  REFINE     265 

'-'Harry  will  be  found  and  I  for  one,  shall  give  him 
a  warm  welcome  home  yet.  Meanwhile  Eleanor  is 
growing  more  than  ever  in  sweetness;  I  could  almost 
call  her  saintly,  except  that  I  don't  as  a  rule  like 
saints;  they  are  generally  too  well  aware  of  their 
claim  to  the  honor." 

Dick  and  Kathleen  were  back,  and  in  the  buoyancy 
of  their  new  estate,  they  refused  to  let  Eleanor  mope. 
They  were  in  and  out  of  her  house  every  day,  and 
when  at  last  the  two  little  old  ladies  went  home  to 
Virginia  again,  Kathleen  spent  a  part  of  each  day 
with  her  sister. 

She  was  rummaging  one  afternoon  in  a  secretary 
that  had  belonged  to  her  father,  and  chanced  upon  a 
seldom  opened  drawer.  She  uttered  an  exclamation 
of  surprise. 

"Why  Nellie!" 

"What  is  it,  Kathleen?" 

"Look  here." 

Eleanor  looked,  and  looked  again.  Then,  with  a 
cry  that  came  from  the  depths  of  her  soul,  she 
snatched  a  thick  parcel,  directed  to  herself  in  Harry's 
hand.  Her  first  tumultuous  regret  was  that  it  must 
have  lain  there,  all  these  dreadful  weeks,  and  that  had 
she  but  searched,  she  would  have  had  a  message 
from  the  absent  one.  She  sank  into  a  chair,  white  to 
the  lips,  but  her  color  returned  presently,  and  Kath 
leen,  divining  that  she  preferred  to  be  alone,  went  out 
of  the  room. 


XXXII 

THE  PACKET:  KATHLEEN  FOUND 

"  1^  JIT  Y  darling  wife,"  began  the  letter  which 
1%  /•  Eleanor  opened  with  trembling  fingers. 
X  Y  _JL  It  bore  a  date  twelve  months  back  of  the 
day  when  it  was  discovered.  "  I  am  half  concealing 
something  in  this  drawer  in  the  hope  that  1  may  burn 
it,  and  that  your  eyes  may  never  fall  on  the  lines  I 
write.  There  are  days  and  days  when  I  feel  that  you 
never  need  read  this  letter.  Other  days  come  when  I 
am  not  so  sure.  I  am  haunted  by  a  persistent  pre 
sentiment  that  something  is  going  to  happen  to  me. 
At  times  it  is  so  great  a  dread  that  I  hate  to  be  alone, 
and  shrink  from  my  own  company.  Again,  I  fear  to 
turn  a  corner  lest  some  one  shall  suddenly  spring  out 
and  pull  me  down,  and  yet,  again,  I  am  beside  my 
self  lest  we  shall  all  land  in  some  awful  catastrophe. 
This  possession  of  terror  is  not  new.  I  have  had  it 
ever  since  the  days  we  lived  in  the  beautiful  South, 
where  the  roses  were  so  sweet,  and  the  walls  were 
so  thick  around  the  garden,  and  you  and  !  suffered  so 
much  together,  and  yet,  were  often  so  happy.  I  was 
a  brave  man  once,  Eleanor  dear,  but  now  1  am  a 
coward.  There  is  in  my  mind  a  firm  conviction  that 
you  would  get  on  far  better  without  me.  You  are 
surrounded  by  real  and  lifelong  friends.  You  have 
the  boy.  Your  family  are  around  you,  and  you  have 
immense  courage  and  are  full  of  resource.  I  am 

266 


PACKEr  FOUND      267 

nothing  but  a  millstone  round  your  neck.  Without 
me,  you  would  strike  out  some  splendid  line,  and 
follow  it;  I  handicap  you.  I  might  as  well  relieve 
you  of  the  weight  I  am,  not  by  dying,  I  shall  never 
commit  the  sin  of  suicide,  but  by  withdrawal,  where 
none  can  find  me,  only  begging  you  to  forget  and 
forgive  one  who  has  never  been  worthy  of  the  woman 
who  gave  him  her  love. 

"  I  am  dead  tired,  Eleanor,  tired  of  everything  I  am 
doing,  tired  of  law  books  and  cases,  and  money  and 
work.  I  want  to  get  into  the  open.  If  another  war 
had  come,  that  would  have  given  me  an  opportunity, 
but  the  signs  are  of  peace.  I  am  leaving  you  with  a 
good  provision.  My  will  and  a  schedule  of  our 
effects  are  in  this  packet.  See  that  my  boy  hears 
nothing  bad  of  his  father,  Eleanor,  and  if  possible 
send  him  to  college. 

"  You  will  be  asking  has  there  been  insanity  in  the 
Osbourn  family,  if  you  ever  do  read  this.  I  may, 
you  see,  get  all  right,  and  you  will  then  never  sus 
pect  what  I  am  trying  to  tell  you.  I  answer  no,  I  am 
the  first,  if  1  am  insane,  which  I  doubt.  I  am,  I  be 
lieve  before  God,  fully  responsible  for  all  I  do  and 
think  and  plan.  If  only  God  would  help  me!  But 
He  does  not.  I've  asked  Him,  and  He  has  given  me 
up.  No  use  looking  to  Him  any  longer." 

The  letter  was  long,  rambling,  and  incoherent,  but 
it  was  Harry's  and  it  threw  light  on  some  darkness. 
Poor  Harry!  Eleanor  sent  it  by  mail  to  Dr.  Abbott. 
She  had  a  quiet  sense  of  dependence  on  the  good 
physician  who  was  so  much  her  friend.  He  con 
firmed  her  in  the  feeling  that  Harry  had  had  spells  of 
moodiness  and  struggle,  due,  in  part,  to  the  strain  he 


268  ELEANOR   LEE 

had  undergone  in  the  war  days;  due,  in  a  larger  part, 
to  the  physical  inroads  and  mental  shocks  of  the 
most  undermining  appetite  known  to  man.  The 
habit  had  been  abandoned,  but  the  effects  had  re 
mained.  One  sentence  to  the  doctor's  mind  was  full 
of  hope.  The  longing  for  the  open,  for  the  life  of  hard 
toil,  away  from  men  and  women  whom  he  knew,  for 
a  complete  change,  seemed  to  the  doctor  to  present  a 
gleam  of  brightness.  To  be  sure,  a  man  in  his  senses 
would  not  have  sought  this  furtively,  nor  edged  away 
like  a  fleeing  culprit,  but  here  was  the  twist,  that  had 
been  too  much  for  him.  Dr.  Abbott  ended  by  de 
claring  that  she  must  be  of  good  heart:  she  would 
soon  hear  from  Harry,  or  he  would  return  when  least 
expected.  In  the  meantime  he  concluded  by  saying, 
"  Emilie  is  praying  for  you,  Mrs.  Osbourn,  and 
Emilie's  prayers  have  access  in  the  court  of  her 
King." 

"Never  speak  of  him  to  me  again!"  said  Donald 
Waugh,  and  Mrs.  Lee  echoed  the  sentiment.  To 
them,  the  letter  and  the  report  of  the  gentleman  from 
Aldis,  were,  alike,  proofs  of  Harry's  cruelty.  What 
could  Eleanor  want  of  such  a  husband  ?  He  might 
better  stay  away. 

"  How  you  can  go  on  loving  him,"  her  mother 
said,  "passes  my  comprehension.  Your  father  was 
a  prince  among  men.  In  our  married  life,  he  was 
always  tender,  thoughtful,  just,  considerate.  He  stood 
between  me  and  the  world.  I  never  had  a  wish  that 
he  divined  and  refused  to  gratify.  I  was  surrounded 
by  his  constant  attentions.  Here  are  you,  poor  child, 
who  have  been  the  plaything  of  a  strange  destiny, 
who  have  gone  through  scenes  and  sorrows  that 


THE  PACKET  FOUND      269 

might  have  killed  a  dozen  women.  Yet  you  cling  to 
Harry  Osbourn  still.  Could  anything  destroy  your 
love  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  was  Eleanor's  answer.  "  I  am  Harry's 
wife.  I  love  him  just  as  he  is,  wherever  he  is,  and 
whatever  he  is,  better  than  I  could  love  any  other 
man  in  the  world,  and  I  shall  love  him,  until  my  last 
breath.  My  love  shall  find  and  save  him  yet." 

"  He  may  be  where  you  cannot  reach  him,  dear." 

"  I  shall  find  and  save  him  yet." 

"  My  child,  I  cannot  think  of  it  as  in  character 
with  your  husband,  but  such  things  have  been,  as 
that  a  man  may  have  yielded  to  some  temptation 
which  assailed  him  in  a  weak  moment:  the  passion 
for  gambling,  perhaps,  or  some  grosser  form  of  vice. 
Human  nature  is  a  frail  reed,  and  every  child  of 
Adam  is  so  burdened  by  inherited  traits  and  tenden 
cies  that  he  may  be  like  a  chip  freighted  with  the  de 
sires  and  weaknesses  of  those  who  have  gone  before, 
and  at  the  mercy  of  circumstance.  If  1  knew  the 
whole  genealogy  of  the  Osbourns,  as  I  do  our  own 
family  tree,  I  should  be  happier  in  my  mind." 

''This  way  of  talking,  mother  dear,  is  not  a  bit 
like  you.  I  know  Harry;  what  do  I  care  for  his 
grandfather  ?  I  repeat  that  I  have  confidence  in  him, 
but,  were  my  confidence  vain,  I  would  just  love  him 
more  fully,  with  more  compassion,  but  with  equal 
iove.  Nothing  can  make  me  change  a  fraction  in  my 
regard  for  Harry.  Why,  mother,  he  is  my  husband. 
That  is  the  answer  to  everything  any  one  can  say." 

Mrs.  Lee  stooped  and  kissed  Eleanor,  who  was  sit 
ting  in  a  low  chair,  her  hands  moving  softly  to  and 
fro  in  the  meshes  of  some  white  wool  work. 


270  ELEANOR  LEE 

"  Are  you  ever  a  moment  idle,  dear  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  What  are  you  making  now  ?  " 

"  When  it's  completed,  it's  to  be  a  shawl  for  some 
body  I  love,"  answered  Eleanor.  "  Mother,  I  have 
to  be  busy;  when  I  am  not  busy  •!  brood.  I  can 
never  be  thankful  enough  that  when  I  was  a  little 
girl,  you  taught  me  to  sew  and  crochet  and  knit. 
You  used  to  tell  me  '  Satan  finds  some  mischief 
still,  for  idle  hands  to  do.'" 

Women  who  have  the  accomplishment  of  needle- 
craft,  whatever  its  variety,  have  a  gift  which  they 
should  not  undervalue.  The  needle  in  a  woman's 
hand  is  often  a  sedative  for  clamorous  nerves,  or  a 
shield  against  oppressive  care.  In  olden  days,  be 
fore  our  girls  were  so  liberally  educated  as  now,  they 
were  taught  the  art  of  plain  sewing,  and  the  intri 
cacies  of  embroidery,  and  with  one  long  white  seam, 
or  the  flashing  steel  knitting  needle,  they  tided  over 
some  of  the  harder  experiences  of  life.  Education,  in 
whatsoever  field  it  lie,  is  for  discipline  and  culture 
more  than  for  mere  information,  and  therefore  the 
training  of  the  hands  is  not  to  be  despised. 

Little  Lee,  when  he  said  his  nightly  prayers,  never 
omitted  "  God  bless  dear  father!  "  One  evening  he 
looked  up  into  his  mother's  face,  his  eyes  shining, 
his  rosy  lips  parted. 

"Do  you  s'pose  father  says,  'God  bless  dear 
Lee  '  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,  darling,  I  am  sure  father  says  that,  I  am 
sure  of  it." 

"  I  wis'  father'd  come  home  to  you  and  me,"  said 
the  child.  "But  he  isn't  vewy  far  off,  if  he  says 
that." 


THE  PACKEr  FOUND      271 

And  Eleanor,  kneeling  by  her  boy,  was  suddenly 
comforted.  What  she  had  told  him  stole  into  her 
heart  as  a  blessed  assurance.  She  fell  asleep  that 
night,  saying  to  herself, 

"  God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again, 
Till  we  meet,  at  Jesus'  feet." 

Which  does  not  necessarily  mean,  as  some  of  us 
think,  till  we  meet  in  Heaven!  There  are  meetings 
here  at  Jesus'  feet,  and  from  them  come  more  results 
than  this  world  dreams  of. 

The  mother  who  takes  care  of  her  own  little  ones, 
in  the  unfolding  years  of  their  early  life,  receives 
compensation,  pressed  down  and  running  over  for 
her  work  and  care.  Children  are  our  truest  com 
forters,  and  from  their  little  lips  drop  words  of  wis 
dom  which  they  speak  in  their  perfect  unconscious 
ness  of  the  evil  abroad  in  the  world.  "  Of  such  is 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 


XXXIII 
UNDER  THE  SHOULDER  OF  THE  HILL 

WHEN  Harry  Osbourn  obeyed  the  overmas 
tering  vagrant  impulse  that  had  for  months 
tugged  at  his  brain,  and  urged  him  to  go 
away,  somewhere,  anywhere,  beyond  the  pale  of  his 
home  and  friends,  his  good  angel  must  have  been 
asleep.  He  had  worked  late  at  the  office,  two  hours, 
at  least,  after  the  rest  had  left  and  gone  home  for  the 
day,  and  night  had  crept  on,  a  chill,  rain-swept 
night.  As  he  stepped  into  the  street,  where  the  gas 
lamp  flickered  fitfully  over  the  slate  colored,  soaking 
sidewalk,  with  the  single  strip  of  stone  down  the 
centre,  his  feet  squashed  into  mud  and  water,  and  a 
sharp  gale,  turning  the  corner,  whipped  its  sleety 
points  against  his  face.  Fighting  the  wind,  he  stood 
waiting  for  the  car  that  went  in  the  direction  of  his 
own  house.  Three  cars  passed,  going  the  other  way. 
When  a  fourth  came,  he  stepped  into  it,  with  no 
special  aim  beyond  an  automatic  movement  to  get 
under  shelter. 

"  There's  nobody  at  home.  I  won't  be  missed  if  1 
don't  go  there  yet,"  was  his  first  thought.  Little  did 
he  dream  that  this  was  a  suggestion  of  his  evil  genius, 
that  it  meant  the  first  step  on  a  way  that  he  had  long 
contemplated,  toying  with  the  idea,  yet  with  no  defi 
nite  intention  of  carrying  it  into  action.  After  he 
had  written  his  queer  letter  to  Eleanor,  and  had  hid- 

272 


UNDER  THE  HILL         273 

den  it  away,  he  seemed  to  have  crossed  the  danger 
line,  and  from  that  time,  for  many  weeks,  the  temp 
tation  had  not  troubled  him.  He  had,  in  fact,  for 
gotten  that  letter  as  completely  as  if  it  had  never 
been  written.  The  car  stopped  at  a  big,  well-lighted, 
railway  station,  its  terminus,  and  Harry  stepped  out 
with  the  other  passengers.  He  went  into  the  railway 
restaurant  and  ordered  a  meal.  Soup,  meat,  coffee, 
were  brought,  and,  being  hungry,  he  ate  heartily  and 
with  enjoyment.  As  he  finished,  a  man,  whom  he 
did  not  recognize,  came  to  the  table,  holding  out  his 
hand. 

"  Captain  Osbourn,  as  1  live  and  breathe.  If  ever  I 
was  glad  to  see  any  one  on  earth,  old  fellow,  I'm 
glad  to  see  you.  Are  you  on  the  road  ?  I'm  going 
on  the  north-bound  train  myself.  I  hope  we're  to  be 
fellow-travellers. " 

"  I'm  going  to  Aldis,  Major  Bond,"  Harry  heard  his 
own  voice  saying.  "  The  window's  open,  I  see.  I'll 
just  get  my  ticket,  and  then  I'll  join  you  in  a  talk  over 
old  times." 

Comrades  in  the  Civil  War,  sharers  of  its  hardships 
and  perils,  the  two  men  had  once  been  congenial 
friends.  Major  Bond  invited  Harry  to  drink  with 
him.  Harry  declined,  rather  to  the  Major's  wonder, 
but  the  matter  was  not  pressed.  They  boarded  a 
train  together,  and  for  fifty  miles,  talked  as  eagerly 
and  vehemently  as  if  they  had  been  boys  instead  of 
middle-aged  men,  over  the  campaigns  that  were  to 
be  history  for  the  children  of  the  next  generation. 
Major  Bond  bade  his  friend  good-bye,  when  he 
arrived  at  Aldis,  and  proceeded  on  his  own  journey, 
which  took  him  beyond  daily  papers  and  telegrams. 


274  ELEANOR  LEE 

Consequently,  when  Harry  was  chronicled  as  miss 
ing  the  Major  never  knew  it.  At  Aldis,  Harry  sought 
a  little  inn  he  had  frequented  in  boyhood,  and  asking 
for  a  room,  was  shown  up  to  one  he  remembered. 
A  maple-wood  bedstead,  with  a  billowy  feather  bed, 
a  washstand  with  white  pitcher  and  basin,  a  rock 
ing-chair  and  a  straight  backed  chair,  a  looking- 
glass,  a  small  bureau,  and  a  strip  of  home-made  rag 
carpet  on  the  floor  completed  the  simple  furnishings. 
The  skimpy  allowance  of  huckaback  towels,  and  the 
skimpy  towels  themselves,  the  hard  white  soap 
streaked  with  red,  the  lamp  with  a  bit  of  red  worsted 
in  its  clear  bowl,  winding  serpent-wise  amid  the 
kerosene,  all  were  as  familiar  to  him  as  the  memories 
of  his  boyhood.  In  such  a  room  he  had  often  slept 
in  younger  days.  He  had  once  fancied  such  a  room 
rather  grand  than  humble.  In  the  morning,  a  loud 
bell  clanging  through  the  halls  wakened  him,  and  he 
dressed  and  descended  to  a  smoking  breakfast  in  the 
country  style,  ham  and  fried  eggs,  buckwheat  cakes, 
coffee,  with  pie  and  doughnuts  for  those  who  wished 
a  more  extensive  bill  of  fare.  The  people  in  the 
house  were,  as  it  happened,  all  men:  some  employed 
in  Aldis,  others  commercial  travellers,  going  out  with 
their  samples.  One  of  the  latter  asked  Harry  what 
his  particular  line  was. 

"I  am  travelling  for  pleasure,"  said  Harry,  and  the 
other  looked  at  him  with  envy. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  when  a  man  has  a  wife  and  two 
or  three  kids,  he  can't  go  far  for  pleasure.  He's  com 
pelled  to  work.  He  can't  often  go  anywhere  just  for 
pleasure." 

"No,"  agreed  Harry,  "he  can't." 


UNDER  rHE  HILL         275 

Yet  no  thought  of  Eleanor  or  of  Lee  appealed  to 
him  then.  It  was  as  if  his  mind  were  a  surface  from 
which,  for  the  time,  their  names  had  been  washed. 
He  sauntered  out,  renewed  acquaintance  with  old 
landmarks,  and,  seeing  on  a  door  the  name  of  a  law 
firm  he  had  once  known  well,  went  in  and  called. 
Here  was  the  Aldis  lawyer,  who  later  went  to  Eleanor, 
as  he  had  gone  earlier,  to  be  the  bearer  of  tidings. 
Elbert  Coles  had  known  Harry's  people,  and  was 
glad  to  see  Harry,  though  being  acute  by  disposition 
and  training,  he  wondered  at  the  vagueness  of  his 
plans,  and  the  absence  of  fixed  purpose  that  his 
words  implied.  Of  mental  aberration,  Harry's  bear 
ing  gave  no  sign. 

The  border-land  between  sanity  and  its  opposite  is 
often  nearer  the  mentally  normal  person  than  friends 
imagine.  A  slight  divergence  from  perfect  health,  a 
protracted  season  of  overwork,  or  sometimes  a  sud 
den  shock,  may  precipitate  disease.  That  nature, 
ever  tending  to  cure  her  own  hurts,  often  relieves  and 
soothes,  and  sends  restoration,  is  another  blessed  fact. 
Her  winds  breathe  balm,  her  skies  brood  benignantly, 
her  woods  and  groves,  her  rivers  and  oceans,  have 
spells  to  weave  in  sweetness  of  remedial  help,  when 
overstrained  humanity  is  in  need.  The  rush  and 
pressure  of  modern  life  are  fearful,  and  at  times  we 
all  suffer  because  serenity  and  calm  leisure  are  gone, 
now  that  steam  and  electricity  have  abolished  dis 
tance,  and  done  away  with  space  limitations.  In 
deed,  the  real  mystery  is  not  that  any  one  can  be 
discovered,  but  that  any  one  can  be  successfully  lost 
in  this  day  of  revelation.  A  generation  ago,  agencies 
for  discovery  were  less  numerous  than  now,  but  even 


276  ELEANOR   LEE 

then,  they  were  multiplied,  and  it  was  a  marvel,  in 
deed,  that  Harry  Osbourn  was  not  immediately  found. 

Leaving  Aldis,  he  took  a  north-bound  train,  idly 
still,  not  caring  whither  he  went.  Nightfall  found 
him  in  a  nook  of  the  mountains,  and  heedless  of  the 
inconvenience  of  no  luggage,  he  again  sought  shelter 
in  an  obscure  country  tavern.  A  man's  actual  neces 
sities  are  minimized  when  he  becomes  in  a  measure 
indifferent  to  artificial  wants,  or  luxuries,  and  this 
man  bought  an  extra  shirt  or  two,  an  extra  set  of 
underclothing,  a  pocket  comb  and  a  tooth  brush,  at 
the  village  store,  and  was  sufficiently  equipped  for 
the  time.  He  lingered  here  several  days,  paying  his 
bill  at  each  day's  end,  and  strolling  aimlessly  about, 
or  sleeping  for  hours  as  he  pleased.  Then,  pene 
trating  farther  into  the  wilderness,  he  asked,  in  the 
guise  of  a  travelling  artist,  for  board  at  a  farmhouse 
under  the  shoulder  of  a  great  hill.  The  farmer  and 
his  wife  were  incurious  people,  who  were  not  averse 
to  taking  in  a  guest  with  money  to  spare.  They 
asked  no  questions,  and  had  no  near  neighbors  who 
might  gossip.  Harry  stayed  in  their  house  for  many 
months,  then  left,  wending  his  steps  next  to  a  small 
village,  nearer  Islington,  rather  than  farther  from  it, 
though  in  an  indirect  line.  He  simply  drifted  on, 
irresponsibly. 

While  under  the  hill's  shadow,  the  man  had  vege 
tated,  rested,  begun  to  be  interested  in  the  life  about 
him.  One  day  he  awakened  and  remembered,  and 
came  to  himself.  That  night,  in  an  agony,  he  prayed 
for  Eleanor  and  little  Lee.  But  he  was  ashamed  to  go 
home.  He  counted  his  money.  It  was  almost  gone. 
He  decided  to  work  his  way  back,  somehow,  to  Is- 


UNDER  THE  HILL         277 

*. 

lington,  and,  if  need  be,  at  the  last,  to  walk  back 
there.  But  how  could  he  ever  meet  Eleanor?  He 
was  not  yet  wholly  himself  or  he  would  not  have 
been  afraid.  In  this  strange  and  timorous  mood,  he 
stopped  at  a  village  in  the  Adirondack  foothills,  and 
engaged  with  a  rural  doctor  to  do  chores,  and  drive 
the  horses,  and  be  a  general  man  of  all  work.  In 
this  novel  capacity  of  hired  man  he  became  extremely 
useful,  proving  that  a  well-trained  mind  in  any  field 
gives  a  man  a  great  advantage  over  one  who  lacks 
intellectual  discipline.  "  Henry,"  as  he  was  called 
here,  was  a  very  treasure  of  hired  men,  but  here  he 
aroused  curiosity.  The  doctor's  wife  and  daughter 
were  keenly  aware  that  the  new  workman  was  a 
gentleman,  though  he  ate  in  the  kitchen  and  slept  in 
the  loft. 

"I  do  hope,  doctor,"  said  the  wife,  "that  Henry 
won't  turn  out  to  be  an  escaped  convict." 

"Nonsense,  Frances,  don't  be  fanciful.  Henry's  a 
plain  American,  a  little  down  on  his  luck,  that's  all." 

"He  looks  awfully  sorrowful,  father,"  said  the 
doctor's  daughter. 

"Please  select  a  less  lurid  adverb,  Irene.  There's 
nothing  awful  about  Henry.  I'm  only  afraid  he  won't 
stay  long.  For  pity's  sake,  child,  don't  invest  him 
with  a  halo  of  romance.  If  he  were  not  such  a  si 
lent  chap,  I'd  find  out  more  about  him,  but  he  doesn't 
talk,  and  thus  far,  I  don't  even  know  his  surname. 
He  has  a  knack  with  horses  which  is  the  principal 
necessity  in  his  present  position." 

The  doctor  went  to  his  patients.  Irene  speculated 
in  vain. 


XXXIV 
A  HOMESICK  HEART 

HARD  work  is  an  antidote  for  many  evils,  but 
it  cannot  cure  the  hurt  of  a  homesick  heart, 
nor  can  it  bring  entire  forgetfulness.  In  the 
loft-chamber  where  Harry  now  slept,  the  family  had 
a  custom  of  stowing  away  in  piles  and  heaps,  when 
they  became  an  embarrassment  in  the  living  rooms, 
newspapers  and  periodicals,  which  they  had  read. 
As  a  clever  and  wide-awake  household,  they  took  in 
a  good  deal  of  printed  matter,  and  there  was  a  theory, 
that  Irene  and  her  mother  sent  off  the  papers  they 
had  finished  reading,  to  the  Salvation  Army  head 
quarters,  or  the  hospital,  or  the  cousin  in  Kansas,  or 
the  home  missionary  in  Nebraska.  About  once  a 
year,  after  a  sermon  on  the  practical  way  of  showing 
love  to  the  neighbor,  they  really  did  put  up  and  mail 
a  good  deal  of  their  left  over  reading  matter  to  those 
who  hailed  it  as  a  boon  or  a  welcome  diversion,  but 
they  seldom  kept  regularly  on.  The  result  was  that 
sheaves  of  papers  gathered  dust  in  the  library  and 
choked  the  sitting-room,  until  Irene,  in  despair,  car 
ried  them  up  to  the  loft-chamber  and  bestowed  them 
in  a  dark  corner. 

During  his  country  sojourn,  Harry  Osbourn  had 
read  little.  The  hunger  for  books  that  had  marked 
his  earlier  life  was  then  in  abeyance.  While  toiling 
as  Dr.  Mott's  hired  man,  the  old  love  for  books  re- 

278 


A  HOMESICK  HEART       279 

k 

turned,  as  quietly  as  it  had  vanished,  and  asserted 
itself  imperiously.  He  could  not  well  borrow  vol 
umes  from  the  library,  and  in  the  kitchen  the  only 
literature  accessible  consisted  of  an  almanac,  three 
cookery  books,  and  an  old  blue-backed  Webster's 
speller,  which  were  hobnobbing  in  a  friendly  intimacy 
on  the  shelf  below  the  eight  day  clock.  When 
Harry  Osbourn,  poking  under  the  rafters,  came  upon 
the  great  piles  of  newspapers  and  magazines,  he  was 
as  happy  as  a  miner  who  has  found  a  vein  of  silver. 

"Thank  Heaven!  "  he  ejaculated.  "  Here's  some 
thing  to  read!  " 

Of  course,  among  the  first  paragraphs  on  which  he 
chanced,  in  the  Islington  Mail  and  Express  of  some 
months  ago,  was  a  description  of  himself  and  an  ad 
vertisement;  other  papers  revealed  other  advertise 
ments,  and  he  read,  with  a  shaking  hand  and  a  sink 
ing  heart,  of  the  efforts  his  people  had  made  to  dis 
cover  him  and  his  whereabouts.  The  enormity  of 
his  continued  hiding,  now  that  he  was  in  a  measure 
Harry  Osbourn,  and  not  some  masquerading  stranger 
in  Harry's  outward  semblance  was  clearly  forced  upon 
his  consciousness. 

"  What  in  the  world  has  my  wife  done  all  these 
weary  days  and  nights  ?  "  he  cried  in  utter  abase 
ment,  grinding  his  teeth,  and  closing  his  hands  till 
they  ached,  and  the  nails  almost  cut  the  hardened 
palms. 

He  fell  on  his  knees,  and,  like  the  man  in  the  par 
able,  smote  his  breast,  crying,  "God,  be  merciful  to 
me,  a  sinner!  God  bless  Eleanor!  God  bless  my 
boy,  my  boy,  and  let  me  go  home  to  them." 

In  pitiful  anticlimax  at  the  moment  rang  out  Dr. 


280  ELEANOR   LEE 

Mott's  "  Hello,  Henry,  where  are  you  ?  Come  and 
take  my  horse!  " 

That  homesick  heart  could  brook  no  more  dcJay. 
Henry  finished  his  evening  chores,  tied  up  his  bundle, 
and  gave  the  astonished  employer  an  hour's  notice. 

"  Man !"  remonstrated  the  physician.  "You  are 
mad.  You  can't  leave  me  in  this  ridiculous  way, 
without  the  ghost  of  an  idea  where  I'll  find  your  suc 
cessor.  I  shan't  soon  find  your  equal.  Is  it  more 
wages  you  want,  my  friend  ?  Name  your  terms." 

"  I  reckon,  doctor,"  said  Harry,  "  that  you've  paid 
me  full  value  for  my  services.  I've  been  satisfied.  I 
have  been  mad,  I'm  afraid,  but  I'm  sane  now,  and 
I'm  needed  somewhere  else.  Doctor,  don't  hinder 
me,  for  Christ's  sake;  I'm  going  home  where  I 
belong." 

"Tell  me  who  you  are,"  said  the  doctor,  fixing 
piercing  eyes  on  his  face. 

"  Not  now.     I  will  tell  you  sometime." 

"  Are  you  a  fugitive  from  the  law  ?  " 

"  No,  on  my  word  of  honor.  I  have  been  a  fugi 
tive  from  home,  though,  and  I'm  going  back." 

"Then  may  God  bless  you!"  said  the  doctor, 
grasping  the  hand  of  his  hired  man  in  a  hearty  clasp. 

At  midnight  Harry  was  on  the  train,  that  a  day 
later  would  land  him  in  Islington. 

He  sat  well  back  in  a  corner  near  one  end  of  the 
car,  his  heart  thumping  with  excitement,  as  the  ex 
press  thundered  on,  every  swift  revolution  of  the 
wheels  bringing  him  nearer  the  dear  ones  he  had  left. 
Absorbed  in  his  deep  penitence,  his  eager  wish  to  see 
them  again,  he  wasted  no  emotion  in  fear  as  to  his 
reception.  Without  words  he  was  sure  of  forgive- 


A  HOMESICK  HEART:    281 

v 

ness  from  those  in  the  home,  and  as  for  others,  he 
had  no  care.  What  they  might  think  was  to  him  a 
matter  of  little  moment.  It  was  a  trifle  singular  that 
he  felt  scarcely  any  remorse.  To  his  own  apprehen 
sion,  he  had  been  the  sport  of  circumstances,  or  of 
caprice,  and,  equally  it  did  not  occur  to  him,  that 
what  had  once  happened  might  happen  again.  Over 
and  over,  he  kept  repeating  under  his  breath  in  an 
exultant  tone, 

"  I'm  on  the  road  home!     I'm  on  the  road  home!  " 

There  was  a  crash.  The  locomotive  jumped  the 
rails.  Two  forward  cars  lay  on  their  sides.  Passen 
gers  in  the  rear  car,  where  Harry  was,  made  their 
way  outdoors,  unhurt,  and  directly  it  was  known 
that  nobody  on  board  was  killed,  though  some  were 
bruised,  and  badly  shaken,  and  the  engineer,  poor 
fellow,  was  painfully  scalded.  Rain  was  falling  in 
torrents  and  cascades,  reminding  Harry  of  the  night 
when  he  left  home.  The  whip  of  the  rain  in  his 
face,  as  he  tramped  through  black  mud  to  the  station 
brought  vividly  back  that  other  night  when  he  had 
gone  away. 

"Oh!  God!  "  he  murmured,  "  hast  Thou  forgive 
ness  for  a  fool  ?  "  For  the  first  time  he  saw  himself, 
colossally,  ignominiously,  unpardonably,  a  fool,  and 
the  extenuations  of  his  physical  condition  at  the  time 
faded  away.  He  tottered  into  the  station  in  the  gray 
dawn,  overwhelmed  with  the  revelation  that  the  last 
half  hour  had  brought,  not  of  his  sinfulness,  but  of 
his  folly. 

"What  will  Eleanor  say?"  he  thought  in  bitter 
self-reproach. 

The  train  was  delayed  three  hours.     In  his  impa- 


282  ELEANOR   LEE 

tience  they  seemed  to  Harry  Osbourn  three  weeks, 
for  now  he  was  straining  to  reach  his  journey's  end, 
and  could  brook  no  delay.  People  paced  up  and 
down,  eager  as  himself;  some,  rendering  thanks  for 
a  great  escape  were  patient;  others,  like  Harry,  were 
counting  the  dragging  minutes,  that  they  might  start 
again,  yet  they  might  have  been  stranded  in  a  worse 
place.  Here  there  were  a  good  many  alleviations. 


XXXV 
WHA7  ELEANOR  SAID 

THREE  hours'  delay  at  a  wayside  station, 
which  was  the  terminal  of  several  branch 
roads,  and  past  which  great  trains  going 
north  to  Canada  and  south  to  the  Gulf  flashed  at 
intervals  all  day  long,  was  not  quite  so  bad  as  might 
have  been  the  same  length  of  waiting  in  a  desert 
place.  Harry,  feeling  faint,  at  last  refreshed  himself 
in  the  railway  restaurant,  ate  a  warm  breakfast,  and 
then,  in  the  most  commonplace  way  possible  bought 
an  early  Islington  paper,  and  sat  down  to  read  it. 

Passengers  were  coming  and  going.  Railway 
guards  in  uniform  stood  here  and  there.  Arriving 
and  departing  trains  were  announced  by  stentorian 
voices.  Harry  stopped  to  ascertain  when  his  train 
would  start. 

A  tall  woman  in  a  dark  rain-coat  was  walking  up 
and  down  the  platform.  She  led  a  child  by  the  hand. 
An  air  of  distinction  about  her,  a  certain  familiar  grace 
in  her  walk,  caught  Harry's  eye,  and  his  heart  stood 
still.  The  instinct  that  saves  the  modern  man  from 
making  a  scene,  or  becoming  a  spectacle,  enabled 
him  to  control  himself,  and,  pale  as  death,  he  stood 
braced  against  a  post,  till  he  had  himself  in  hand. 

Up  and  down,  up  and  down,  walked  the  lady, 
careless  of  her  surroundings,  unheeding  the  eyes  of 
the  lonely  man,  that  devoured  her  with  their  glances. 

283 


284  ELEANOR   LEE 

The  station  had  gradually  become  deserted,  the  chill 
of  the  morning  driving  most  of  the  waiting  pas 
sengers  into  the  large  stove-heated  rooms.  Presently 
the  little  fellow  spoke. 

"Mother,  dear,  let  us  go  and  sit  down  somewhere, 
please! " 

"  In  a  minute,  Lee.  Not  quite  yet,  darling !  Mother 
likes  the  air!" 

Oh!  the  sweet  ring  of  that  soft  voice,  as  the  wait 
ing  man  heard  it. 

Harry  stepped  up  to  the  pair,  hat  in  hand.  Bare 
headed,  he  waited  for  the  princess  to  speak  his  sen 
tence.  Not  stopping  to  think  that  his  sudden  ap 
parition  might  upset  her  composure,  and  distress  her 
beyond  her  strength  in  a  public  place,  not  waiting 
for  anything,  he  barred  her  pathway.  Little  Lee 
uttered  a  glad  cry,  "  Papa,  it's  my  papa." 

"  Eleanor!" 

"Why,  Harry!"  she  answered.  "Why,  Harry. 
Are  you  coming  home  ?  " 

"Yes,  Eleanor.     May  I?" 

She  slipped  her  hand  into  his. 

"Yes,  Harry!  "she  said,  but  the  loveligtit  in  her 
eyes  was  as  bright  as  sunshine  breaking  through 
mist.  Yet  nothing  could  have  been  more  naturr.1 
than  this  dramatic  meeting. 

Eleanor  and  her  boy  had  been  away  on  a  visit  to 
some  old  acquaintances  of  the  Lees.  They  had  been 
on  the  train  with  Harry,  and  the  accident  brought 
them  together.  At  noon,  when  the  train  pulled  into 
Islington,  husband,  wife  and  child  alighted,  and  as 
if  he  had  never  been  absent,  Harry  Osbourn  came 
home. 


WHAT:  ELEANOR  SAID   285 

The  old  comfort,  the  old  cheer,  the  old  elegance  of 
appointment  in  rooms  and  at  the  table,  the  rugs 
so  soft  to  the  foot,  the  pictures  on  the  walls,  the 
books,  ah,  the  dear  books  in  the  library,  nothing  of 
home  was  changed  when  the  wanderer  returned. 
As  formerly,  white-capped  maids  went  noiselessly 
to  and  fro.  As  formerly,  the  household  moved  in 
grooves  so  smooth,  that  there  was  no  friction.  Max 
Pomfret,  of  a  different  and  far  less  sensitive  nature, 
had  gone  from  his  world  at  his  pleasure  and  returned 
at  his  will,  and  later  on  Harry  Osbourn  recognized  the 
suggestion  of  his  own  going,  as  having  sprung  from 
that  unfortunate  example,  but  Max,  when  he  went 
away,  or  came  back,  had  been  oblivious  of  any  one's 
position  except  his  own.  Harry  Osbourn  did  not  fit 
as  easily  as  he  had  fancied  or  without  real  suffering 
into  the  place  that  had  once  been  his.  He  imagined 
that  people  stared  at  him,  as  indeed  at  first  they  did. 
He  was  sure  the  servants  discussed  him  below  stairs, 
which  probably  was  the  case.  It  required  an  im 
mense  amount  of  fortitude  and  courage  for  him  to  go 
about  again  in  Islington,  and  to  receive  kith  and  kin 
and  friends  in  his  own  home.  If  Eleanor  had  not 
stood  unflinchingly  at  his  side,  he  must  have  broken 
down.  Never  had  she  been  Princess  Eleanor  more 
truly  than  at  this  most  trying  period  of  her  history. 

What  is  done  in  this  world  can  never  be  wholly 
undone.  The  man  who  voluntarily  severs  the  ties 
that  bind  him  to  his  own  place,  his  own  work,  and 
his  own  people,  need  never  expect  that  he  can  rebind 
them,  and  the  knot  show  no  roughness.  The  thing 
is  simply  abhorrent  to  the  order  of  nature  and  there 
fore  impossible.  In  Harry's  absence,  Eleanor  had 


286  ELEANOR  LEE 

acquired  an  inevitable  independence  and  a  degree  of 
sufficiency  to  herself.  She  could  stand  lovingly  at  his 
side,  loyal,  devoted  and  steadfast,  but  she  could  not 
relinquish  the  right  to  do  as  she  chose  in  small  as  in 
great  things,  which  had  become  hers  by  Harry's 
voluntary  act.  She  had  formed  certain  habits  of  in 
dependent  decision  and  action  which  she  could  never 
lose.  That  her  husband  had  not  been  entirely  re 
sponsible  only  deepened  in  her  the  strain  of  mother 
hood,  which  thereafter  kept  even  pace  with  wifely 
tenderness  in  her  love  for  him  all  her  days. 

Little  Lee  became  the  father's  comforter.  The 
child  was  companionable,  a  playmate,  a  delight,  and 
in  his  eyes  Harry  read  no  reproach.  Do  what  he 
could,  and  what  she  would,  the  shadow  of  an  un 
spoken  reproach  was  in  Eleanor's  face.  The  whole 
catastrophe  had  been  so  needless;  it  seemed  mean 
ingless,  now  that  it  was  over,  but  it  had  left  a  scar. 

Donald  Waugh  was  among  the  first  to  call,  and 
contrary  to  Eleanor's  fears,  was  genial  and  cordial. 
Harry  flushed  and  paled,  as  Donald's  square  gaze 
rested  on  him,  and  he  had  a  little  shyness  in  taking 
the  big  hand  when  it  was  extended  in  welcome. 
That  Donald  asked  no  questions  was  a  relief  to  both 
Eleanor  and  Harry.  As  time  passed,  and  there  came 
from  him  no  intimation  that  Harry's  old  position  was 
again  open  to  him,  both  husband  and  wife  were 
somewhat  aggrieved.  Here  however  Donald  held 
firmly  aloof. 

"I  never  take  a  rickety  tool  in  my  hand  if  I  can 
help  it,"  he  observed  to  Mattie.  "  I'm  done  with  that 
one." 

"  I  think  you  might  concede  something  for  Eleanor's 


WHAT  ELEANOR  SAID    287 

sake,"  said  Mattie.  "  You  have  always  tried  to  help 
her  through  difficulties." 

"Not  for  twenty  Eleanors  would  I  trust  my  busi 
ness  in  Harry  Osbourn's  hands,"  said  the  man  posi 
tively.  "Business  and  sentiment  are  not  good 
partners." 

"  Yet  you  made  haste  to  employ  Max  Pomfret  at  a 
similar  time." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear.  The  point  is  not 
the  same.  Max  is  an  inventor,  a  person  apt  to  go  off 
at  a  tangent:  emphatically  not  a  man  to  tie  to.  Max 
had  neither  wife  nor  child.  Harry  Osbourn  was  and 
is  the  husband  of  a  woman  of  whom  any  man  might 
be  proud.  He  has  treated  her  shamefully.  If  he 
knew  what  he  was  about,  there  is  no  excuse  for 
him.  If  he  did  not  there  would  be  none  for  me,  if  I 
risked  important  concerns  in  his  care.  I  purpose  to 
look  after  Eleanor's  affairs  as  faithfully  as  an  old 
friend  may,  but  of  Harry  I  wash  my  hands.  Besides, 
dear,  don't  call  me  hard,  please,  it  will  be  better  for 
him  to  climb  the  hill  again  without  anybody  as  a 
staff  to  lean  upon.  Isn't  this  my  little  Lois  coming 
home  from  school  ?  Here,  my  precious,  come  and 
let  father  love  you." 

There  was  no  hardness  in  Donald's  face  when  Lois 
climbed  upon  his  knee  and  laid  her  flower-face  against 
his  cheek. 

Donald  Waugh  was  right.  The  spur  that  Harry 
Osbourn  was  in  need  of  was  precisely  this  letting 
alone,  which  made  it  evident  that  if  he  ever  won  back 
his  honorable  place  among  men,  he  must  do  it  by 
stubborn  doggedness.  After  a  few  weeks,  he  opened 
a  modest  office  on  a  corner  of  the  main  street,  and 


288  ELEANOR  LEE 

picked  up  a  practice  scanty  at  first,  which  gradually 
increased  as  men  found  him  competent  and  faithful. 
And  daily,  nightly,  Eleanor  surrounded  him  with 
an  atmosphere  of  ceaseless  gentleness,  and  deathless 
patience  and  wifely  love. 


XXXVI 

IRENE'S  DISCOVERY 
11  ~m      Jf  OTHER !    Mother !    Come  up  here  if  you 

VI can!>> 

1  T  JL  It  was  Irene  Mott  calling  from  the  little 
room  in  the  loft  which  Henry  had  occupied.  Irene 
had  gone  up-stairs  to  see  that  it  was  in  order,  and 
was  tying  up  the  newspapers  and  generally  disposing 
of  the  litter.  One  of  this  young  woman's  peculiari 
ties  was  a  love  of  reading,  and  the  ruling  passion 
often  caught  her  in  the  toils,  just  as  it  did  Eleanor 
Lee,  just  as  it  does  every  genuine  lover  of  books. 
Old  newspapers,  dusty  and  yellow,  back  numbers  of 
the  magazines,  and  dingy  volumes  that  had  seen  bet 
ter  days,  were  treasure  trove  to  Irene,  and  she  had 
lingered  long  in  the  loft,  beguiled,  not  so  much  by 
the  charm  of  news  which  was  like  the  flow  of  water 
that  is  past,  as  by  the  stories,  jests,  and  odd  adver 
tisements,  in  the  sheets  she  was  putting  away. 

Mrs.  Mott,  stout  and  elderly,  panted  up  the  steep 
ladder-like  stairs. 

"  If  you  are  not  ill,  Irene,  you  are  very  thoughtless," 
she  said  with  an  injured  air  as  she  reached  the  top, 
and  looked  in,  rather  exasperated  at  the  sight  of  her 
daughter  on  the  floor,  sitting  at  her  ease  in  the  mid 
dle  of  a  heap  of  what  looked  like  rubbish,  and  beam 
ing  rosily  over  the  spoils  of  this  old  trash.  Mrs. 
Mott  decided  to  make  a  bonfire  of  the  stuff. 

289 


290  ELEANOR   LEE 

"I  am  sorry,  mother.  I  should  of  course  have 
gone  to  you.  But  I  was  so  taken  by  surprise!  Who 
do  you  suppose  Henry  is  ?" 

"Henry?  Why,  he's  Henry.  I  don't  imagine  him 
a  foreign  count  or  a  prince  in  disguise." 

"  He's  the  husband  of  Eleanor  Lee,  the  man  who 
dropped  down  a  hole,  and  never  came  up,  oh !  months 
ago,  you  surely  remember  ?  " 

"Dropped  down  a  hole?" 

"Don't  be  so  literal,  dearest.  I  mean  he  disap 
peared  strangely,  and  couldn't  be  traced,  and  we  all 
were  so  distressed.  Well,  I've  been  reading  these  old 
papers,  and  putting  one  thing  beside  another,  and 
now  I  know  of  a  surety  that  our  Henry  is  Harry  Os- 
bourn.  1  believe  he's  been  reading  too,  and  that  read 
ing  about  the  thing  restored  him  to  his  right  mind, 
or  at  least  fastened  the  loose  screw,  and  so  he's  gone 
home.  1  shall  telegraph  to  auntie  in  Islington  this 
very  day,  in  order  to  set  my  own  mind  at  rest.  Isn't 
it  a  little  world,  mother  ?  A  little,  little  world,  where 
one  is  always  meeting  people  one  knows  about  in  the 
most  unexpected  places.  Think  of  Harry  Osbourn, 
the  brilliant  advocate,  the  gallant  soldier,  the  husband 
of  Eleanor,  grooming  father's  horses  1" 

"  Don't  be  sure,  too  soon,  Irene." 

"I  won't,  but  I'll  telegraph  auntie." 

As  if  to  emphasize  Irene's  assurance  that  this  world 
of  ours  is  a  little  place,  for  all  its  size,  Dr.  Mott 
brought  an  old  classmate  home  to  dinner  that  day,  no 
less  a  person  than  Mr.  Coles  of  Aldis.  The  doctor 
often  brought  guests  to  the  table  without  previous 
notice,  and  the  hospitality  of  the  home  was  never 
strained  by  their  coming.  His  wife  had  frequently 


IRENE'S  DISCOVERT       291 

*heard  of  Mr.  Coles,  but  this,  as  it  happened,  was  her 
first  meeting  with  him.  Mrs.  Mott  was  quite  upset 
by  Irene's  suspicions,  and  had  to  lie  down  in  her  room 
to  stave  off  a  nervous  headache,  before  she  could  meet 
her  family.  She  heard  her  husband's  hearty  laugh 
and  the  low  tones  of  his  friend  in  the  office  below 
her,  and  wondered  what  the  doctor  would  say  when 
he  was  told  that  a  man  fully  their  social  equal  had 
been  eating  in  their  kitchen.  Irene  came  in  with  hot 
water  to  bathe  her  mother's  face  and  the  back  of  her 
neck. 

"Bat,  mother,"  she  said  coaxingly,  "it  wasn't 
your  fault,  nor  ours;  the  man  was  evidently  mentally 
a  little  astray.  He  didn't  mind.  I've  no  doubt  it  will 
all  be  right.  Nobody  can  reflect  on  us.  We  had 
never  had  a  peep  at  the  poor  fellow,  so  how  could  we 
suspect  ?  " 

Somewhat  consoled,  Mrs.  Mott  took  her  seat  at  her 
end  of  the  dinner  table.  At  the  meal  the  talk  turned 
on  Irene's  probable  discovery.  Mr.  Coles  considered 
that  she  had  excellent  grounds  for  her  conclusion. 
He  narrated  what  he  had  known  of  Judge  Lee  and 
his  family,  relating  the  story  of  the  two  occasions 
when  he  had  met  Eleanor,  and  describing  Captain 
Osbourn  minutely. 

"How  happens  it  that  you  know  the  Lees?"  he 
inquired. 

"  Mrs.  Lee  and  I  were  girls  together  at  school,  and 
we  have  been  intimate  friends  all  our  lives,"  said 
Mrs.  Mott.  "  My  children  call  her  auntie,  though 
there  is  no  real  relationship,  and  hers  address  me  in 
the  same  manner.  Had  Henry  ever  been  in  my  room 
he  would  have  seen  his  wife's  picture  on  my  dressing- 


292  ELEANOR   LEE 

table.  Indeed,  though  Eleanor  has  not  been  here  for 
a  long  while,  I  had  spoken  to  Irene  of  inviting  her  for 
a  visit  to  divert  her  from  her  troubles.  We  were 
trying  to  arrange  for  it." 

About  the  same  hour,  Eleanor  learned  in  a  talk  with 
Harry,  what  he  had  been  doing  when  away  from  her. 
She  was  speechless,  so  incredible  it  seemed  that  at 
any  time  during  the  last  few  weeks,  she  might  have 
walked  in  upon  the  Motts,  and  have  recognized  her 
husband  in  their  man  of  all  work. 

"  You  are  not  ashamed  ?  You  do  not  feel  that  this 
has  disgraced  me  beyond  rehabilitation  ?  "  Harry  asked 
anxiously. 

Eleanor  smiled. 

"Honest  work  can  degrade  nobody;  you  should 
know  how  I  feel  about  that,  dear.  Only  I  wish  Dr. 
Mott  had  known  who  you  were.  I  could  have  had 
you  at  home  so  much  sooner." 

Eleanor  had  her  small  tilts  with  her  mother.  Mrs. 
Lee  predicted  that  Harry  could  never  regain  anything 
of  the  intellectual  power  he  had  temporarily  lost. 
She  persisted  in  taking  the  gloomiest  possible  views, 
and  when  her  friends  spoke  of  her  son-in-law,  she 
shook  her  head.  Nevertheless,  she  was  mistaken.  A 
new  manhood  invested  him,  and  he  had  laid  down 
forever  a  childish  petulance  and  nervous  weakness 
which  had  been  his  handicaps.  Little  by  little  he  was 
climbing  up,  losing  no  foothold  he  gained,  and  con 
quering  a  place  for  himself  in  the  community,  a  place 
securer  and  more  worthy  than  he  had  ever  possessed. 

The  prevalent  opinion  that  in  no  circumstances 
may  a  man  ever  trample  upon  his  past,  and  make  it 
a  stepping-stone  to  a  better  and  nobler  future,  was 


IRENE'S  DISCOVERT       293 

contradicted  in  the  experience  of  Harry  Osbourn. 
His  wife  held  him  to  his  best,  not  as  formerly,  by  a 
studious  and  anxious  endeavor  to  yield  to  his  every 
caprice  and  to  consult  his  every  passing  wish,  but  by 
going  on  her  own  way,  at  his  side,  filling  her  days 
with  endeavor  as  important  as  his,  and  living  her  life 
in  womanly  beauty  and  strength  as  his  comrade,  not 
merely  as  his  nurse  and  housekeeper,  and  the  orna 
ment  of  his  life.  Home  was  for  Eleanor,  in  these 
days,  a  background  where  of  old  it  had  been  only  a 
battle-ground. 

"You  have  kept  on  with  all  your  work,  you  are 
again  in  your  club,  you  have  your  Bible  class  as  regu 
larly  as  possible,  you  are  full  of  outside  interests," 
commented  Mattie  Waugh,  "but  it  does  not  appear 
to  hurt  your  home  life,  Eleanor.  I  should  say,  as  an 
observer,  that  it  was  making  it  richer  and  fuller,  and 
I  do  believe,  though  it  contradicts  my  theories,  that  it 
is  good  for  your  husband." 

"Mattie,"  Eleanor's  face  was  alight  with  the  in 
tensity  of  her  feeling,  "  I  am  contradicting  my  own 
theories.  I  have  tried  to  be  purely  the  domestic 
woman,  but  I  am  not  fitted  for  her  role.  To  be  inter 
esting  I  must  be  interested,  and  as  I  cannot  squeeze 
my  bushel  into  the  pint  measure  of  the  woman  who 
keeps  house  and  does  nothing  else,  1  am  dull  and 
bored,  and  I  bore  others,  when  I  am  false  to  myself. 
I  have  faithfully  tried  two  courses.  The  present 
course,  which  gives  me  room  for  expansion,  which 
calls  my  powers  into  action,  makes  me  a  better  wife 
to  Harry  and  a  better  mother  to  Lee." 

"Donald  is  afraid  you  are  going  back  on  what  he 
calls  the  simplicity  of  womanhood.  He  rather  de- 


294  ELEANOR  LEE 

plores  a  change  he  sees  in  you,  Eleanor.  You  know 
how  he  clings  to  the  old  ideals." 

"So  do  I,"  retorted  Eleanor.  "I  have  not  de 
serted  my  ideals.  One  would  fancy  I  had  done  some 
astonishing,  unprecedented  thing,  in  trying  to  live  my 
life  as  the  Lord  gives  it  to  me.  You  see  how  it  suits 
my  husband.  Did  you  ever  see  him  looking  half  so 
well  ?  But  I  can't  expect  Donald  to  understand." 

Mattie  drew  herself  up  with  some  offense.  Pride 
was  always  rather  droll  when  shown  by  the  little 
partridge  of  a  woman  who  was  so  meek  a  mate  to 
her  rugged  spouse.  She  had  grown  ample  and  stout 
with  the  years,  but  she  ruffled  up  her  feathers,  as  she 
said  hastily, 

"You  never  in  your  life  understood  my  Donald, 
and  you  never  will,  but  there  isn't  a  man  in  Islington 
that  I  think  fit  to  tie  the  latchet  of  his  shoe." 

"Pardon  me,  Mattie.  1  did  not  mean  to  be  disre 
spectful.  Everybody  knows  the  solid  goodness  of 
Donald  Waugh." 

Mattie  was  conciliated.  She  had  matured  into  one  of 
the  easy-going,  amiable  women  who  have  few  angles, 
and  are  as  reposeful  as  pillows  to  those  with  whom 
they  live.  An  ingrained  loyalty  to  her  traditions,  a 
habit  of  adopting  her  husband's  ideas  about  every 
thing  from  politics  to  parasols,  and  a  sort  of  soft  ob 
stinacy  about  trifles,  had  deepened  and  grown  in 
Mattie,  until  she  was  impervious  to  new  notions  of 
any  kind.  Mattie's  gentle  insistence  upon  trifles  was 
at  times  disconcerting;  she  was  not  exactly  Donald's 
echo,  but  she  gave  him  a  continual  worship  which 
was  delightful  to  his  vanity,  and  was  accepted  as  his 
due  by  the  good  man,  who  still,  with  a  little  incon- 


IRENE'S  DISCOVERT       295 

sistency,  looked  down  upon  Mattie's  intellect.  Lois 
would  stir  things  up  yet  in  the  still  pool  of  the 
Waughs'  domesticity,  but  that  period  was  fortunately 
far  off.  She  was  now  a  thin,  impulsive,  intense 
child,  who  had  outgrown  her  baby  prettiness,  and 
was  awkward  and  clumsy.  She  loved  her  mother, 
adored  her  father,  and  thought  her  little  playmate, 
Lee,  the  dearest  thing  in  the  world.  When  she  had 
a  childish  trouble,  she  carried  it,  not  to  her  own 
mother,  but  to  Lee's.  For  the  explanation  of  this,  it 
must  be  said  that  Eleanor  Osbourn,  out  of  the  strange 
sufferings  and  deep  joys  of  her  life,  had  learned  to 
sympathize  with  people,  as  only  they  can,  who  know 
human  nature,  and  understand  it  in  a  good  many  dif 
ferent  phases.  Little  children  ran  to  her,  and  she 
petted  or  soothed  them,  never  too  busy  for  their  small 
confidences.  Young  people  brought  her  their  love 
affairs,  and  she  gave  counsel,  or  helped  adjust  misap 
prehension,  as  if  she  were  as  young  as  the  youngest. 
Old  people  called  her  their  darling,  and  brightened  if 
she  entered  their  doors.  She  had  a  magnetism  that 
was  wonderfully  captivating.  To  her  mother,  she 
-was  more  than  ever  the  girl  she  used  to  be  at  home, 
yet  she  brooded  over  her  mother  as  if  their  relations 
were  reversed. 

"  The  most  popular  and  beloved  woman  in  Isling 
ton,"  said  a  man  one  evening,  as  a  little  party  of 
friends  left  the  Osbourns'  home.  Husband  and  wife 
had  stood  together  in  the  drawing-room  door,  bid 
ding  their  guests  good-night. 

"1  believe  Harry  Osbourn's  worthy  of  her,  at  last," 
was  the  thoughtful  verdict  of  the  man's  companion. 
4'He  didn't  use  to  be,  but  he  is  now." 


296  ELEANOR   LEE 

"Then  love  has  wrought  the  miracle,  her  love." 

In  the  house  they  had  left,  Harry  was  turning  down 
the  lights,  and  bolting  the  doors  for  the  night.  Elea 
nor,  weary,  was  waiting  for  him  in  the  library.  She 
sat  in  an  armchair,  her  black  velvet  gown  falling  in 
rich  folds  on  the  carpet,  a  fluff  of  white  lace  cover 
ing  her  throat.  Harry  came  in  and  stood  by  the 
hearth,  looking  down  at  her.  The  lights  were  out, 
all  except  one  that  burned  just  over  Eleanor's  head. 
There  was  pride  touched  with  pain  in  the  man's  face 
as  he  gazed. 

"Dearest,"  he  said,  "how  you  carry  all  before 
you!  How  people  worship  you!  I  am  afraid  some 
times,  afraid  I'll  wear  out  your  great  patience,  that 
you  won't  always  love  me." 

"Have  I  not  always  loved  you?"  she  answered. 
"  My  love  is  not  a  thing  to  ebb  and  flow.  It  is  yours 
forever.  But  don't  be  worried,  dear,  I  never  began 
to  love  you  when  we  were  mere  children  in  the  old 
war-times,  as  I  love  you  now." 

They  sat  together,  talking  till  the  clock  struck, 
warning  them  that  it  was  late.  As  they  went  up 
stairs,  they  stopped  at  the  nursery,  to  look  at  their 
sturdy  boy  in  his  healthy  sleep,  and  as  they  each 
stooped  to  kiss  his  forehead,  lightly  not  to  disturb 
him,  they  were  drawn  closer  to  one  another.  A  child 
is  love's  strongest  link. 

"I'll  try,  please  God,  never  to  give  you  one  mo 
ment's  pain  again,"  said  Harry  as  they  turned  away 
from  the  little  bed. 


XXXVll 
HARRY'S  NEW  ROLE 

SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS  is  the  most  hampering 
condition  known  to  mortal  man.     He  who  can 
cast   off   its  bonds,   enters   into   a  realm   of 
enviable  freedom.     So  long  as  one  thinks  of  the  im 
pression  he  or  she  is  making,  so  long  as  one  is  aware 
of  criticism  in  some  eye,  or  deprecation  in  some 
gesture,  or  boredom  in  some  attitude,  the  handicap  is 
fatal  to  success.     One  must  be  free  from  the  domin 
ion  of  the  observer  to  do  one's  best  work. 

An  intense  self-consciousness  had  been  Harry 
Osbourn's  bane,  ever  since,  leaving  Clivedon,  he 
had  lived  and  wrought  in  Islington.  The  story  of 
his  past,  ever  present  in  his  memory,  was  blazed  he 
fancied,  in  his  countenance,  and  an  exaggerated 
diffidence  kept  him  in  the  background,  whenever 
there  was  a  call  for  him  outside  of  business  or  his 
home.  When  he  resumed  his  life,  after  the  interval 
which  grew  more  and  more  hazy  and  dim  in  his  recol 
lection,  as  hazy  as  the  memory  of  a  dream  in  the 
bright  waking  daylight,  he  dropped  the  burden  that 
had  weighed  him  down.  Not  more  entirely  did 
Christian  drop  his  burden  at  the  foot  of  the  cross. 
For  Harry  literally,  old  things  had  passed  away.  All 
things  had  become  new.  The  change  was  radical, 
and  he  could  not  explain  it,  nor  could  Eleanor,  yet 
both  felt  it,  knew  it,  and  were  aware  of  an  extraor- 

297 


298  ELEANOR   LEE 

dinary  relief  from  tension,  and  an  immense  reaction 
from  care. 

Doctor  and  Mrs.  Abbott  came  from  Virginia  for  a 
holiday  and  were  guests  at  the  Osbourn  home  for  a 
fortnight.  Dear  old  Mrs.  Abbott  was  not  surprised 
at  the  peace  she  found  regnant  in  her  friends  and  at 
their  renewed  youthfulness  of  feeling. 

"I  expected  this,"  she  said.  "I've  been  praying 
for  it." 

"Do  you  always  feel  that  your  prayers  are  an 
swered,  lady?"  said  Eleanor.  "Lady"  was  a  pet 
name  she  liked  to  give  the  little  woman  with  the 
silver  hair,  the  woman  who  was  the  good  angel  of 
many  hearts. 

"I  know  they  never  miss  an  audience,  my  dear, 
and  therefore  \  am  sure  they  are  always  answered. 
Not  always  in  the  way  I  hope  for,  of  course,  but  al 
ways  as  God  wills,  which  is  better  by  far.  Still  I  do 
believe  that  when  we  ask  for  right  things,  unselfishly, 
we  may  hope  to  have  them  granted.  God  is  not  less 
kind  than  earthly  parents  and  they  love  to  give  good 
gifts  to  their  children." 

"  I  wish  every  one  felt  as  you  do,  dear  Mrs.  Abbott. 
But  you  don't  know  how  many  good  people  explain 
away  the  whole  reality  of  prayer  as  an  effective 
power  in  their  lives.  They  think  it  wrong  to  pray 
for  God's  help  in  the  daily  course.  One  dear  woman 
said  to  me  yesterday  that  she  would  not  think  of 
going  to  God  like  a  beggar  with  her  little  cares  nor 
could  she  expect  Him  to  be  bothered  with  her 
troubles.  Thousands  of  Christians  are  very  vague  in 
their  realization  of  God  as  a  friend." 

The  trouble  is,  dear,  they  don't  take  the  plain 


HARRY'S  NEW  ROLE      299 

Bible  and  believe  every  word  of  it.  If  God  tells  me 
to  commit  my  life  into  His  hands,  I  commit  it,  and 
leave  it,  and  He'll  never  disappoint  my  expectation." 

Into  the  blessedness  of  this  conclusion  Eleanor  had 
lately  entered.  A  deepening  spirituality  characterized 
her  as  she  went  on,  holding  fast  to  an  invisible  hand. 
Far  more  than  had  ever  been  her  experience  in 
earlier  days,  she  grew  in  the  knowledge  that  all  life 
is  under  God's  guiding  care,  and  that  even  in  the  little 
things,  one  may  confidently  seek  God's  daily  leading. 

"The  most  unworldly  woman  I  know,"  remarked 
one  of  her  friends. 

"Say  rather  the  most  other-worldly,"  was  the 
reply  of  the  one  addressed. 

Mrs.  Lee,  her  eyes  now  quite  sightless,  was  very 
dependent  upon  her  daughters  for  entertainment  and 
attention,  but  she  bore  the  eclipse  with  wonderful 
patience.  She  was  the  abler  to  do  this,  that  she 
waited  for  the  moment  when  the  little,  swift  click 
of  the  surgeon's  knife  should  remove  the  cataract, 
and  restore  her  vision.  Meanwhile  everybody  waited 
on  her,  and  the  children,  Lois  Waugh  and  little  Lee, 
were  delighted  to  do  her  errands.  A  peculiar 
serenity  ensphered  the  blind  lady,  and  her  friends 
spoke  of  it,  as  remarkable.  Yet  similar  gentle  bear 
ing  of  their  affliction  is  common  among  the  blind, 
who,  though  they  dwell  in  darkness  so  far  as  the 
outer  world  is  concerned,  would  seem  to  have  their 
own  beautiful  inner  sight  of  the  soul,  almost  living  a 
dual  life. 

Donald  Waugh  made  a  point  of  calling  on  Mrs. 
Lee,  every  afternoon  on  his  way  from  business.  The 
bluff,  breezy  man,  domineering  as  of  old,  was  a 


300  ELEANOR  LEE 

staunch  friend,  and  there  was  no  arrogance  nor  self- 
assertion  in  his  manner  when  talking  with  the 
woman  whom  he  had  reverenced  from  his  boyhood. 
He  told  her  all  the  news  of  the  day,  cheered  her  by 
his  robust  sincerity  and  did  her  good,  without  an 
effort.  Donald  did  not  mind  going  out  of  his  way 
to  make  this  daily  visit,  for  he  could  hardly  remem 
ber  the  time  when  the  Lees'  house  had  not  been  to 
him  as  a  shrine.  His  wife  said  with  truth  that  it  was 
Donald's  idea  of  a  sanctuary. 

"You  know,"  he  said  one  day,  "that  I've  just 
found  out  what  a  preposterous  fellow  I've  been  all 
my  life.  Really,  Mrs.  Lee,  it  has  only  dawned  on  me 
lately." 

Mrs.  Lee  laughed. 

"Preposterous  is  hardly  the  word,  Donald.  But 
what  has  aroused  this  strange  conviction  ?" 

"  Looking  at  Harry  Osbourn.  1  thought  and  dared 
to  say  that  his  usefulness  was  over,  that  he  would 
never  have  influence  again,  or  command  respect. 
I've  been  kind  to  him  for  Eleanor's  sake.  The  fact 
is,  I  did  not  measure  the  man  rightly.  He  has  taken 
hold  of  life  with  splendid  heroism  at  last,  and  is 
doing  magnificent  work,  down  in  the  Hollow,  among 
my  people,  all  so  quietly  and  so  effectively  too.  I 
would  not  have  believed  it  possible,  if  I  had  not  seen 
it.  Rachel  told  me  there  was  stuff  in  Harry  Osbourn, 
but " 

"  But,"  repeated  Mrs.  Lee,  "he's  been  a  good  while 
showing  it.  You  and  I,  Donald,  felt  exactly  alike. 
There  isn't  a  greater  trial  for  a  mother  than  to  s^ee  her 
daughter  suffer  as  Eleanor  has  suffered,  and  to  be 
powerless  to  lift  a  feather's  weight  of  the  load.  This 


HARRT'S  NEW  ROLE      301 

has  been  my  case  and  I've  been  dreadfully  rebellious. 
You  are  making  me  very  happy  by  speaking  as  you 
do.  Tell  me  specifically  what  has  pleased  you  so 
much." 

"  Well,  it's  not  easy  to  specify.  Harry  has  been 
standing  by  his  wife  in  all  her  plans,  as  indeed  h& 
ought,  since  he  came  back  to  her,  and  he's  been  acN 
ing  in  the  most  brotherly  way  among  the  men.  He  i* 
very  sympathetic,  and  now  that  he  loves  and  under 
stands  them,  they  listen  when  he  talks,  and  Rachel 
says  the  hall  is  not  big  enough  to  accommodate  the 
men  who  come  to  hear  him.  He  is  making  a  good 
fight  against  the  saloons,  not  by  abuse,  or  by  phillip- 
ics,  but  by  offering  the  men  a  better  ideal  of  fellow 
ship.  He's  done  already  more  good  in  Old  Field 
Hollow  than  1  would  have  thought  possible  a  year 
ago,  and  under  his  leadership,  a  band  of  volunteers, 
university  men,  and  men  from  our  best  families,  are 
organizing  for  hand  to  hand  work  in  every  ward  in 
the  city.  Harry  Osbourn  has  arrived  at  his  best,  and 
no  thanks  to  me!  " 

"  I  am  very  sure  that  you  did  him  a  good  turn  in 
letting  him  alone.  You  are  a  bit  overpowering  some 
times,  and  you  may  have  unintentionally  robbed  him 
of  a  certain  freedom." 

"  I  think  not  quite  as  you  do,  dear  mother,"  inter 
rupted  Kathleen  Deland,  who  had  hitherto  been  a 
silent  listener.  "  Up  to  this  time  Harry  was  not 
ready  for  such  work  as  he  is  doing  now.  God  has 
His  own  ways,  don't  you  think,  and  He's  made  him 
fit,  by  a  discipline  that  was  hard  while  it  lasted." 

"  A  discipline  that  might  have  killed  my  Eleanor," 
said  Mrs.  Lee. 


302  ELEANOR   LEE 

11  Oh,  but  it  did  not.  Eleanor  was  never  so  fine  as 
she  is  now.  She  is  as  happy  as  a  woman  can  pos 
sibly  be." 

Donald  took  his  hat. 

"Well,  I  must  be  going,"  he  said.  "The  little 
girl  watches  from  the  window,  and  she  runs  to  meet 
me.  I'd  like  to  be  sure  that  she'll  have  a  smooth  time 
of  it  all  along.  To  think  of  Lois'  ever  having  to  suf 
fer  breaks  me  up." 

"  Don't  let  it,"  said  Mrs.  Lee.  "  Am  I  to  tell  you 
to  live  by  the  day  ?  Now  that  I  think  of  it,  I  once 
met  an  old  woman,  eighty  she  was,  who  boasted 
that  she  had  never  known  a  sorrow,  nor  a  pain,  nor 
a  grief.  She  looked  no  younger  than  her  years,  and 
she  had  missed  some  of  the  great  joys  in  missing  the 
sorrows.  Donald,  we  must  not  wish  our  loved  ones 
to  escape  the  common  lot." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  rather  weak,"  he  smiled,  as  he 
stood  in  her  door,  "  but  then,  I'd  like  to  make  an  ex 
ception  of  Lois.  My  comfort  is  she's  got  a  little  iron 
in  her.  She'll  not  be  weak." 

Kathleen  looked  after  him,  laughing  as  he  hurried 
to  catch  the  car  at  the  corner. 

"Is  Donald  looking  well?"  asked  her  mother 
anxiously. 

"  Why,  yes,  dear.     I  see  nothing  amiss." 

"  It's  not  like  Donald  to  be  so  lowly  in  heart." 

"Probably  it's  a  passing  phase,"  observed  Kath 
leen.  "  He's  not  ready  for  ascension  robes  yet, 
mother.  He  still  refuses  to  wear  any  shirts  that  are 
not  made  stitch  by  stitch,  by  Mattie's  fingers.  Is  it 
not  absurd  ?  " 

"It  is  indeed,  but  it's  rather  characteristic,  never- 


HARRT'S  NEW  ROLE      303 

theless.  I  don't  want  to  spare  Donald.  Under  the 
prickles  he  has  a  warm  heart." 

Kathleen  paused  before  she  spoke  again. 

"The  one  who  is  really  overworking,  and  who 
may  fly  away  when  we  want  her  most,  is  Miss 
Rachel.  That  Hall  of  Rest  is  anything  but  a  resting 
place  for  her.  She  looks  pale  and  tired  out,  and  not 
a  soul  takes  notice." 

Mrs.  Lee  was  all  interest.  "Then  she  must  be 
looked  after.  Kathleen,  go  down  to-morrow  morn 
ing  and  bring  Miss  Rachel  to  luncheon  with  me. 
When  the  alabaster  box  is  broken  to  bathe  the  Mas 
ter's  feet,  it's  all  right,  but  when  it's  only  spent  to 
save  other  people  work,  there's  something  wrong. 
Somebody  must  be  found  to  relieve  Rachel  Waugh." 

"  That's  precisely  what  Harry  told  Eleanor  and  me 
yesterday.  There's  too  much  confusion  in  that  place, 
too  much  that  wears  on  the  nerves  for  a  woman 
approaching  seventy  to  endure  safely.  Though  no 
body  thinks  of  Miss  Rachel  as  old!  She's  so  young 
in  heart! " 

"  You  say  that  Harry  has  sounded  a  note  of 
warning  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother.  Harry  sees  everything  in  these 
days.  He  is  not  the  same  man  at  all.  Nobody  need 
patronize  him  now,  and  nobody  doubts  him.  It's 
little  short  of  a  miracle." 

"One  of  the  Master's  miracles,"  answered  the 
mother  reverently,  leaning  her  head  upon  her  hand. 
"The  Christ  is  blessedly  near  His  own,  now  as  of 
old.  The  same  dear  Saviour,  ever  strong,  ever  lov 
ing." 

She  was  right. 


304  ELEANOR  LEE 

We  often  speak  as  though  miracles  were  wrought 
only  when  Jesus  walked  in  Galilee.  The  truth  is  our 
Lord  is  always  working  them,  but  we  are  dull  of 
heart  and  eye,  and  do  not  see  or  know.  There  can 
never  be  a  miracle  greater  than  the  change  wrought 
when  a  man  is  truly  converted  and  therefore  truly 
ennobled. 


XXXYIII 
VISITORS  AND  PREMONITIONS 

ELEANOR'S  correct  housemaid  in  her  trim  print 
gown,  white  apron  with  shoulder  straps  and 
big  bow,  and  the  dainty  little  frilled  cap  on  her 
head,  tapped  at  the  door  of  the  morning-room.  Lee 
had  gone  to  the  kindergarten  which  was  the  delight 
of  his  life,  Mr.  Osbourn  was  at  his  office,  and  Elea 
nor  was  busy  with  her  correspondence.  It  was  early 
for  callers,  but  she  heard  voices  in  the  hall,  as  she 
bade  Nancy  come  in. 

"  Please,  Mrs.  Osbourn,  here  are  some  people  who 
won't  go  round  to  the  kitchen  door.  I  told  them 
to." 

Great  scorn  was  written  on  Nancy's  face. 

"  'Cose  not.  I  done  seed  my  Miss  Eleanor  a  settin' 
by  de  window,  so  I'se  come  straight  in.  Honey, 
deah  honey,  how  is  yo'  ?  " 

To  Nancy's  horror,  the  stout  old  black  woman  who 
now  rushed  past  her,  threw  both  arms  around  Mrs. 
Osbourn,  hugging  and  crying  over  her,  and  Eleanor 
returned  the  embrace. 

"  Dear  Aunt  Polly!  where  did  you  drop  from  ?" 

"I'se  come  Norf  to  work  and  earn  money.  I'se 
brought  my  Ada;  she  was  the  youngest  when  you 
lef  Cliveden;  a  triflin'  chile  then,  but  mighty  handy 
now,  Miss  Eleanor.  We've  done  come  straight  hyar. 

3°5 


306  ELEANOR   LEE 

Cliveden's  good,  but  de  Norf's  better,  and  we  all 
made  up  our  minds  to  come  Norf.  My  ole  man  and 
de  rest  of  dem  '11  come  after  I'm  settled." 

Eleanor  was  rather  puzzled  what  to  do  with  good 
Aunt  Polly.  She  had  been  the  best  of  servants  in 
the  South,  but  was  not  likely  to  know  the  regular 
work  demanded  in  an  orderly  Northern  home.  Elea 
nor  could  not  keep  her  in  her  own  house.  Her  staff 
would  leave  on  the  instant  if  she  did.  However, 
Aunt  Polly,  her  plump  person  filling  up  one  of  the 
rockers  and  Ada  sitting  on  the  floor,  their  bags  and 
bundles  around  them,  had  no  fears.  The  old  colored 
woman  had  never  lost  her  entire  faith  in  this  beloved 
mistress,  and  as  years  and  poverty  had  tried  her,  she 
had  decided  to  be  her  family's  pioneer,  and  precede 
the  rest  of  them  North. 

Kathleen  settled  the  problem.  She  laughed  till  she 
cried  when  she  saw  Aunt  Polly. 

"Of  course  you'll  get  on  here,"  she  said.  "You 
can  come  straight  home  with  me.  We  haven't  a 
maid  in  the  house,  and  Ada  can  run  errands  and 
wait  on  mother.  Aunt  Polly,  an  angel  from  heaven 
wouldn't  be  more  welcome  to  us  to-day." 

The  old  Lee  homestead  was  big  enough  to  accom 
modate  all  sorts  of  arrangements,  and  in  the  attic,  a 
room  was  speedily  prepared  for  Aunt  Polly  and  Ada. 
Mrs.  Lee  did  not  object  to  the  soft-voiced,  swift- 
footed  little  maid,  who  liked  to  wait  on  the  helpless 
lady,  and  Kathleen  was  independent  on  the  servant- 
question  for  awhile. 

Factories  were  competing  with  households  in 
Islington,  and  the  young  girls  who  had  once  been 
relied  on  to  aid  housekeepers  were  working  at  the 


PREMONITIONS  307 

loom,  or  in  the  paper-mill.  That  the  monotonous 
drudgery  of  the  mill,  where  a  girl  must  stand  for 
many  consecutive  hours,  doing  the  same  thing  over 
and  over  and  over,  in  a  hot,  ill-ventilated  room,  to 
the  whirring  noise  of  machinery,  keeping  on  hour  by 
hour,  should  be  preferred  to  the  variety  offered  in  the 
home,  is  very  hard  to  comprehend.  The  girl  who 
prizes  her  independence,  however,  often  votes  for  the 
toil  of  the  factory  and  likes  it  better  than  the  lighter 
toil  of  a  domestic's  life. 

Kathleen  had  been  having  trouble  in  retaining  good 
help,  so  she  welcomed  Aunt  Polly  with  joy.  Pres 
ently  she  began  inviting  her  friends  to  luncheons 
where  she  regaled  them  with  such  fried  chicken, 
hot  biscuits  and  ice  cream,  as  northern  cooks  can 
not  evolve  from  the  best  materials  and  the  finest  re 
ceipts.  Aunt  Polly's  pound-cake  and  her  light  bread 
•were  the  admiration  of  Kathleen's  friends.  Before 
long  other  flustered  and  discouraged  house  wives 
sent  South  for  help,  and  Aunt  Polly  had  her  wish. 
Her  family  were  about  her.  She  then  hired  a  little 
house,  and  instead  of  living  at  Mrs.  Deland's,  went 
home  every  night,  and  felt  no  pangs  of  absence 
drawing  her  back  to  Cliveden.  In  her  blue-checked 
dress,  white  apron,  gay  turban,  and  stout  shoes,  she 
•was  a  picturesque  figure  as  she  tramped  to  and  fro, 
in  Islington  streets,  often  "toting"  Mrs.  Deland's 
marketing  safely  on  her  old  head,  that  was  set  so 
well  on  her  broad  shoulders. 

Miss  Rachel  Waugh  took  a  great  fancy  to  Aunt 
Polly.  It  had  been  easy  to  persuade  this  lady  to 
leave  the  Hall,  for  she  realized  that  she  was  no 
longer  fit  for  it  and  its  incessant  motion  and  drain 


308  ELEANOR  LEE 

on  her  sympathy.  As  her  own  home  had  a  tenant 
with  an  unexpired  lease,  she  visited  friends  for 
awhile,  giving  a  part  of  her  leisure  to  Eleanor,  an 
other  part  to  Mrs.  Lee,  and  a  good  share  of  her  time 
to  Donald  and  Mattie.  The  latter  begged  her  to 
make  her  permanent  home  v/ith  them,  but  she  re 
fused. 

"  I  cannot  see  my  way  clearly  to  such  a  step,"  she 
said.  "We  Waughs  are  too  pronounced  to  fit  into 
the  homes  of  our  relatives.  You  wouldn't  want  me 
long,  Mattie.  I'll  just  stay  until  I  can  get  into  my 
own  house.  Meanwhile,  what  ails  Donald?" 

"Nothing  that  I've  noticed,"  said  Mattie. 

"  He's  not  looking  like  himself,  is  he  ?  We  have 
a  habit  in  our  family  of  going  to  pieces  all  at  once. 
We  keep  on  working  our  full  time  and  suddenly  we 
break.  If  Donald  doesn't  stop  and  rest,  that  is  what 
will  happen  to  him." 

Mattie  was  aghast.  She  was  so  accustomed  to 
think  of  Donald  as  invincible,  that  the  bare  notion  of 
illness  or  disaster  in  his  case,  drove  her  to  panic. 
What  should  she  do,  if  anything  happened  to  her 
husband?  What  could  she  do,  if  there  was  any 
danger?  Gibraltar  was  not  harder  to  move  than 
Donald  Waugh. 

"  If  you  only  were  not  so  very  well  yourself,"  said 
Miss  Rachel,  whimsically,  "you  might  coax  him  to 
take  you  to  Europe.  But  that  plan  would  fall 
through,  wouldn't  it?" 

"I'll  persuade  my  father,"  said  little  Lois  firmly, 
and  with  the  true  Waugh  decision.  "  I'll  persuade 
him  to-night.  Then  we'll  all  go.  I  want  to  see  Scot 
land  and  Switzerland  and  Italy.  I  ought  to  travel  for 


PREMONITIONS  309 

my  education,"  said  the  small  girl,  who  was  now 
struggling  with  her  first  Latin  declensions. 

Donald  had  theories  of  his  own,  about  the  educa 
tion  of  Lois,  and  she  heard  a  good  deal  said  about  it 
when  her  elders  did  not  notice  her  presence.  Mattie 
would  like  to  have  sent  her  daughter  by  graded  steps 
from  the  kindergarten,  straight  through  to  the  college 
for  women,  then  an  experiment.  Mr.  Waugh  did 
not  especially  care  to  have  her  tied  down  to  any 
school  routine.  Masters  in  the  house,  and  a  resident 
governess  fitted  into  his  scheme  for  his  idol,  and,  as 
usual,  he  had  his  way.  Lois,  once  emancipated  from 
her  kindergarten,  which  her  father  tolerated  as  a 
playing  at  school,  was  not  permitted  to  enter  any 
other  institute.  Eleanor  Osbourn  had  been  largely 
educated  at  home  and  she  warmly  championed  Don 
ald's  ideas.  Mattie  disapproved,  but  was  content  on 
the  whole  to  let  her  good  man  rule  in  the  realm  of 
their  daughter's  training. 

"Be  careful,  Nellie,"  advised  Kathleen,  "how  you 
comment  too  freely  on  those  queer  notions  of  Donald 
Waugh's  about  Lois.  Mattie  may  think  you  have 
inspired  them." 

"  I  haven't." 

"1  know  you  haven't,  but  Mattie  might  not  un 
reasonably  think  you  had,  and  it  wouldn't  be  well  to 
arouse  her  antagonism." 

"  Probably  with  his  usual  tact  Donald  holds  me  up 
as  a  shining  example.  Thanks  for  the  warning.  I'll 
be  silent  hereafter." 

Behold  Lois,  with  a  huge  atlas  in  her  hand,  stand 
ing  at  her  father's  side,  as  he  sat  by  the  table  after 
dinner,  reading  his  evening  paper. 


3io  ELEANOR  LEE 

"Is  this  you,  Pussy?"  he  asked,  laying  down  the 
finance  sheet  with  its  long  rows  of  prices  and  quota 
tions. 

He  lifted  her  to  his  knee.  The  big  hand  stroked 
her  dark  red  curls. 

"  Lois,  you  are  too  big  a  girl  to  sit  in  your  father's 
lap." 

"Tell  mother,  you  wouldn't  be  too  big  if  you 
were  twenty.  Papa's  sunbeam!  "  A  world  of  love 
lay  in  the  glance  he  bent  on  his  idol. 

"Father,"  said  the  child,  "please  look  over  the 
map  with  me.  We  all  want  to  go  to  Europe,  and 
I  want  you  to  take  us.  I  want  to  see  the  places.  I 
want  to  go  to  the  place  Grandfather  Waugh  came 
from,  before  the  Waughs  went  to  Ulster,  in  Ireland ; 
the  Scottish  place,  father." 

"I  see  that  Aunty  Rachel  has  been  talking  to  you, 
dear.  Father'd  like  to  take  you  across  the  sea,  but 
he's  too  busy.  Far  too  busy." 

Lois  did  not  speak,  but  she  looked  sorry.  Her  lit 
tle  sensitive  face  clouded  over,  and  she  bit  her  lips  to 
keep  from  crying.  She  traced  with  her  finger  the 
points  on  the  map,  points  she  had  been  dreaming 
about  all  day.  Then  she  turned  and  gazed  at  the  big 
man  gravely.  Tears  stood  in  her  eyes. 

"Father,  it  would  help  my  education  ever  so 
much,"  she  said. 

He  gave  one  of  his  big  hearty  laughs.  Mattie 
smiled  to  hear  him.  Latterly,  he  had  not  laughed 
much. 

"I'll  take  you,  daughter;  you  and  mother  and 
Aunty  Rachel." 

Turning  to  his  wife  he  said,   "  It's  odd,  Mattie.     I 


PREMONITIONS  3 1 1 

met  Dr.  Baxter  by  accident  to-day,  and  he  said  I 
must  have  a  vacation.  I've  been  rather  tired  out 
lately,  and  I  told  him  so.  This  very  trip  Lois  has 
suggested,  is  his  prescription." 

They  went  away  and  were  gone  nearly  a  year. 
Lois  was  glad  in  the  days  of  her  grown-up  life  that 
she  had  coaxed  her  father  to  cross  the  ocean  and  have 
that  beautiful  trip  with  her  and  the  others.  For  he 
came  home,  better  indeed,  but  not  well,  and  long  be 
fore  Lois  had  received  her  school  education,  it  was 
to  her  father,  a  matter  of  little  moment  whether  she 
went  to  college  or  stayed  at  home. 

But  in  the  years  of  invalidism  that  finally  were 
Donald  Waugh's  portion,  he  grew  wonderfully  gen 
tle.  One  who  had  known  him  chiefly  in  the  hard 
aggressiveness  of  his  earlier  days,  would  not  have 
recognized  him  as  he  was  gradually  mellowed  by 
suffering  and  softened  by  enforced  retirement  from 
the  old  activities.  Not  fretting  against  necessity  as  a 
weaker  nature  would  have  done,  he  accepted  what 
was  laid  upon  him  to  bear,  and  looked  about  for 
pleasant  ways  of  passing  the  time.  As  a  Christian, 
Donald  had  belonged  in  the  ranks  of  the  militant;  he 
had  never  been  noted  for  the  passive  virtues,  but  as 
feebler  health  came  upon  him  he  went  to  school  to 
the  Master  whose  beatitudes  are  all  for  the  meek  and 
lowly,  for  the  peacemaker  and  the  persecuted  and  for 
the  pure  in  heart. 

His  daughter,  like  him  in  many  peculiarities  of 
temperament  and  character,  was  the  gainer  by  these 
changed  qualities  in  her  father,  whose  comrade  she 
was.  She  too,  and  sooner  than  he,  had  many  natural 
features  of  her  disposition  modified,  and  as  for  Don- 


312  ELEANOR   LEE 

aid,  old  friends  after  a  time  would  not  have  known 
him  for  the  same  man.  The  arrogance  was  gone, 
and  with  it  the  note  of  domination.  He  grew  rather 
silent  than  talkative,  easily  entreated  as  the  Bible  puts 
it,  and  fond  of  simple  pleasures.  Leaving  much  of 
the  general  management  of  affairs  to  Mattie,  he  gave 
away  money  freely  where  she  advised  it,  and  for 
months  together  was  contented  to  potter  about  the 
garden,  wear  old  clothes,  and  read  over  for  the  hun 
dredth  time  the  one  or  two  books  he  loved,  the 
Bible  never  tiring  him.  The  visit  to  Europe  was  the 
last  stage  of  Donald  Waugh's  active  life,  though  he 
lived  to  be  a  very  old  man.  When  Lois,  taking  her 
education  into  her  own  hands,  had  made  herself  one 
of  the  most  thoroughly  equipped  young  women  of  the 
day,  her  mother  opposed  her  going  daily  to  the  mills, 
and  entering  upon  business  life,  as  if  she  had  been  a 
man.  It  was  a  new  departure  then,  but  it  suited  Lois 
Waugh,  and  she  carried  on  buying  and  selling,  fac 
tory  work  and  philanthropy,  as  energetically  as  her 
father  had.  Often  he  sat  at  her  side,  as  she  drove 
about,  and  whether  he  was  silent  or,  as  sometimes 
happened,  expansive,  with  flashes  of  his  old  orator 
ical  eloquence,  Donald  Waugh  was  supremely  con 
tented  if  Lois  were  his  companion. 

The  loyal  little  mother  who  did  not  fully  under 
stand  either  husband  or  child,  loved  and  adored  both, 
and  she  too  was  content. 

So  the  years  drifted  on,  apparently  with  few  start 
ling  events  or  marked  episodes,  only  the  ordinary 
and  commonplace  diversifying  their  course.  Lee 
Osbourn  developing  studious  tastes,  went  to  college 
and  was  graduated  with  honors.  His  father  became 


PREMONITIONS  313 

an  influential  citizen,  taking  a  hand  in  municipal 
government,  and  little  by  little  reaching  a  position  of 
leadership.  To  Lee,  who  had  been  a  very  small 
child  in  the  days  when  his  father  had  been  weak 
and  erratic,  Mr.  Osbourn  represented  all  that  was  fine 
and  noble  in  manhood,  and  the  bond  between  father 
and  son  was  one  of  the  most  reciprocal  confidence. 
Among  the  pleasant  homes  of  Islington  none  was 
pleasanter  than  theirs.  Musical  people  brought  to  it 
their  best,  for  though  Eleanor's  own  talent  was  not 
remarkable,  she  could  appreciate  the  gifts  of  others, 
and  she  took  pains  to  draw  out  and  cultivate  genius 
in  young  aspirants  wherever  she  saw  an  indication 
of  uncommon  powers. 

Her  son  was  somewhat  susceptible,  and  had  his 
little  excursions  into  the  land  of  dreams  and  hopes, 
but  though  now  he  admired  a  girl  with  a  charming 
face,  and  again  was  impressed  by  another  with  an 
exquisite  voice,  these  attractions  were  soon  over, 
and  he  remained  faithful  to  one  ideal,  that  was  em 
bodied  in  her  who  had  been  his  childish  playmate 
and  his  youthful  chum.  Lois  Waugh  was  the  only 
true  sweetheart  Lee  Osbourn  ever  had,  and  in  later 
days  neither  could  remember  when  first  they  recog 
nized  their  affection  as  the  love  that  lasts. 


XXXIX 
FULFILLMENTS 

ONWARD  swept  the  ceaseless  procession  of 
the  years.  In  their  wake  inevitably  came 
love's  rich  fulfillments,  and  life's  harvestings. 
It  is  the  fashion  in  books  to  break  off  the  skein  and 
leave  tangled  twists  and  rough  ends,  as  though 
stories  might  never  finish  happily  and  disappoint 
ments  were  the  culmination  of  every  human  ex 
perience.  Yet  the  romances  that  blend  into  realities 
are  seldom  wholly  sad-colored,  and  it  is  true  in  most 
human  lives,  as  it  is  promised  in  the  great  Book  that 
it  shall  be,  that  at  eventime  there  shaM  be  light. 

Late  afternoon,  golden  with  sunshine,  lay  upon  an 
old  house  wherein  was  a  library  filled  with  the  treas 
ured  spoils  of  men  who  had  loved  books  and  bought 
them,  through  successive  generations.  The  room 
was  sweet  with  flower-scents  and  touched  as  rooms 
are  with  the  subtle  personality  of  the  gracious  people 
who  had  lived  and  worked  within  its  ample  space 
and  enclosing  walls. 

A  young  girl,  on  a  low  stool,  leaned  her  arm 
across  the  knees  of  an  older  woman,  who  sat  in  a 
high-backed  chair.  The  two  were  for  the  moment 
alone,  though  voices  reached  them  of  children  at 
play,  and  the  monotonous  strumming  of  five-finger 
exercises  on  a  piano  across  the  hall  made  a  back 
ground  for  their  talk.  A  big  yellow  cat  blinked 

3H 


FULFILLMENTS  315 

sleepily  on  a  cushion  in  the  window-seat.  The 
house  always  had  a  yellow  cat;  the  forbears  of  this 
one  had  belonged  to  it,  as  did  the  dim  Oriental  rugs, 
and  the  antique  furniture. 

The  girl  was  tall  and  finely  formed  with  outlines 
that  would  fill  into  fuller  grace  in  days  to  come. 
She  had  dark  red  hair,  wavy  and  abundant,  a  skin  of 
dazzling  fairness,  and  a  hand,  not  small,  but  white 
and  capable,  from  wrist  to  finger-tips.  Her  face 
was  vivid  and  intense,  expressive  of  resolution,  but 
with  an  undernote  of  purity  and  sweetness  that 
gave  her  an  irresistible  charm. 

Her  friend,  with  soft  gray  hair  piled  high  above  her 
forehead,  and  eyes  that  had  not  lost  their  youthful 
fire,  was  a  woman  of  the  rare  type  that  is  lovely  to 
the  end,  never  losing  beauty,  though  never  hiding 
age.  She  sat  up  straight  in  her  chair.  One  saw  at 
once  that  she  was  not  a  woman  to  loll  or  lounge. 
The  carriage  of  her  head  was  queenly.  She  was  a 
woman  accustomed  to  deference  and  to  granting, 
not  asking,  favors. 

They  had  been  very  quiet  for  a  while,  these  two, 
who  were  close  friends,  at  the  moment  disagreeing 
on  a  subject  important  to  both. 

In  the  hall  ticked  slowly  and  solemnly,  an  old 
clock  that  had  never  fallen  into  the  habit  of  telling 
anything  but  the  truth.  For  two  hundred  years  that 
clock  had  done  its  work,  one  minute  at  a  time,  as 
steady  as  time,  though  hands  that  had  wound  it  had 
faltered  in  their  task  and  laid  it  down. 

"I  wish,"  exclaimed  the  girl  vehemently  at  last, 
"that  1  could  be  as  peaceful  as  you  are,  dearest. 
When  I  am  at  home,  I  domineer  over  father  and 


3i6  ELEANOR   LEE 

mother,  when  I  go  to  the  mills,  I  carry  all  before  me 
there.  I  know  I'm  tyrannical,  but  I  can't  seem  to  help 
it,  when  I  see  how  they  get  into  fusses  over  at  that 
absurd  Hall  of  Rest — such  a  silly  name — I  just  rage 
and  fume  at  them,  but  when  I  sit  by  you,  I'm  like 
a  child  that  has  promised  to  be  good." 

"And  my  Lee  loves  you,  Lois,"  said  the  older 
woman  dreamily.  "Are  you  going  to  be  good  to 
him  ?  Because,  I'm  afraid,  darling,  you'll  be  very 
unhappy  unless  you  can  learn  more  self-control  than 
either  of  you  has  shown  yet.  If  you  were  not  both 
only  children!  I'm  afraid  you've  been  spoiled,  and 
spoiling  in  childhood  isn't  a  good  preparation  for  the 
hardships  of  life.  This  is  why  I'm  so  willing  to  have 
you  separated  while  Lee  goes  over  to  Berlin  to  study, 
and  you  stay  here,  and  carry  on  all  the  work  you 
manage  so  well." 

"  Two  years  is  an  eternity! " 

"And  you  are  not  to  be  engaged  during  them, 
dear  child.  You  are  to  be  free.  Lee  is  to  be  free.  It 
is  not  as  if  you  had  not  grown  up  together.  I'm 
afraid,  sometimes,  that  your  love  is  only  propinquity; 
only  being  used  to  each  other." 

"Well,"  the  girl  drew  a  long  breath,  "I  used  to 
think  you  understood  me,  but  you  don't,  not  a  bit. 
I'll  run  away,  lest  I  say  something  I'll  regret.  Oh, 
here  is  dear  Mrs.  Lee.  She'll  understand." 

Lois  felt  not  unreasonably  vexed.  Propinquity  in 
deed!  Odious  word!  Why  surely  Mrs.  Osbourn 
must  know  how  much  it  was  misapplied. 

"  Are  you  quarrelling?"  asked  Mrs.  Lee,  surveying 
them  keenly.  The  cataract  had  been  removed,  and 
her  sight  restored  some  time  before  this. 


FULFILLMENTS  317 

"Not  quarrelling,  mother,  but  I've  been  talking  to 
Lois,  as  I  have  to  my  husband.  I  don't  think  the 
children  should  be  engaged  until  Lee  gets  through 
his  work  at  Berlin,  and  his  heart  is  set  on  taking  that 
post-graduate  course,  you  know.  There  is  no  occa 
sion  for  haste.  Why  should  Lois  decide  till  she  has 
seen  more  of  the  world  ?  Besides  Lois  will  be  very 
rich,  and  Lee  should  not  be  supposed  to  want  her 
fortune." 

"  That  speech,"  said  Lois  decidedly,  "is  unworthy 
of  you,  Mrs.  Osbourn.  Say  what  you  mean,  that  she 
is  too  conceited,  too  self-willed,  too  anything  that  you 
don't  approve.  Why  not,"  she  went  on  stormily, 
rising  and  standing  by  the  table,  "say  right  out  that 
you  wish  in  your  heart  that  Lee  had  not  fallen  in 
love  with  her  or  any  one  else  ?  But  now  it's  done, 
it  can't  be  helped.  And  you  are  annoyed  because  I 
am  older  than  Lee.  Almost  two  years  older!  I  do 
wish  I  were  not,  but  I  can't  help  myself.  Don't  for 
pity's  sake,  think  I'm  pleading  for  either  of  us;  I 
wouldn't  condescend  to,  but  I  think  you  are  awfully 
cruel,  and  you  forget  that  you  were  once  a  girl.  If 
my  father  were  not  an  invalid,  he  would  speak  for 
us,  I  know  he  would." 

A  boyish  footstep  came  ringing  across  the  path, 
and  in  walked  a  tall  young  fellow,  with  eyes  like 
his  mother,  and  a  look  of  the  sun  in  the  morn 
ing. 

"  Hello!"  he  cried,  "what  luck!  Here  you  are,  Lois, 
just  when  I  wanted  you,  and  where  I  wanted  you. 
Now,  mother,  I've  had  the  thing  out  with  my  father, 
and  he  has  given  his  full  consent.  Lois,  my  darling, 
why  can't  we  be  married  before  I  go  to  Europe?" 


3i 8  ELEANOR  LEE 

"Your  mother  doesn't  want  us  so  much  as  en 
gaged,  Lee! " 

"  Well,  mother  has  sense.  I  don't  want  to  be  en 
gaged.  1  want  to  be  married,  and  to  take  my  bride 
over  with  me.  I  see  no  manner  of  reason  for  any 
delay." 

The  years  seemed  to  roll  away  before  Eleanor's 
eyes.  She  heard,  in  her  boy's  tones,  the  vehement 
tones  of  her  lover  of  the  long  ago;  she  heard  again 
the  same  passionate  pleading. 

Her  old  mother  looked  up  and  smiled. 

"  Why  this  hurry,  you  foolish  children?  " 

"  We  are  growing  older  every  day,  and  something 
may  happen.  I  want  to  take  my  wife  with  me  when 
1  go  over  there  to  study. "  Lee  looked  determined. 
The  want  was  imperious. 

Harry  Osbourn,  gray,  portly,  of  commanding 
presence,  had  followed  his  son  home.  He  came  in 
and  launched  at  once  into  the  midst  of  the  discus 
sion.  As  he  crossed  the  room  to  stand  beside  his 
wife,  he  gave  Lois  a  friendly  glance  and  pressed  her 
hand. 

"They  are  right,  wife,"  he  declared.  "There 
would  be  no  reason  whatever  in  putting  off  their 
wedding.  I'd  rather  not  have  my  boy  go  alone  when 
Lois  is  not  averse  to  going  too." 

Eleanor  looked  doubtful.  "I  have  never  grown 
used  to  thinking  these  children  of  age,"  she  said. 
"  Yet  Lee  is  twenty-one,  and  Lois " 

"Twenty-three,"  responded  Lois  promptly.  "Ven 
erable!" 

"Hush,  Lois!"  Lee  would  never  hear  a  word 
about  those  two  years  of  advantage  on  her  part. 


FULFILLMENTS  3 1 9 

"  I  look  older  than  you  do,"  he  whispered,  consol 
ingly. 

' '  I  have  had  a  very  plain  talk  with  your  father,  Lois, " 
said  Mr.  Osbourn,  "  and  he  is  on  your  side  and  Lee's. 
Mr.  Waugh  is  good  enough  to  say  that  he  prefers 
no  postponement,  and  that  no  choice  his  daughter 
could  make  would  be  more  pleasing  to  him." 

"  Yes,  the  dear  father  would  never  stand  in  the 
way  of  my  happiness,"  said  Lois,  "nor  would 
mother.  1  couldn't  very  well  stay  two  years  away 
from  them,  though.  Father  would  miss  me." 

"You  should  come  home  whenever  you  wished, 
if  they  could  not  come  to  us,"  Lee  declared. 

"It  was  our  engagement,  not  our  wedding,  I 
wanted  sanctioned,"  said  Lois. 

"You  see,  love,  I  am  the  wiser,"  insisted  Lee. 
"  Come,  mother  mine,  give  us  your  blessing." 

There  was  a  little  more  conversation,  and  then 
Eleanor  hauled  down  her  flag.  She  took  Lois  in  her 
arms  and  kissed  her. 

"  I  could  not  wish  for  a  dearer  daughter,"  she  said. 
"  Pardon  me  if  1  have  been  cold.  I  love  you,  my 
child,  and  you  shall  share  the  love  I  give  my  boy. 
May  he  never  cause  you  a  single  heartache!  " 

"Ah,  now  mother,"  cried  Lee,  "and  what  makes 
you  drop  into  that  plaintive  note  ?  If  heartaches  are 
around,  I'll  be  the  one  to  bear  them,  not  she." 

Kathleen's  bevy  of  young  people  and  children  came 
trooping  in.  The  old  house  was  gay  with  the  large 
family  of  Kathleen  and  Dick,  and  the  grandmother 
thought  they  kept  her  young. 

Lois  and  Lee  took  leave  and  strolled  off  together,  a 
pair  whom  nature  had  designed  each  to  complement 


320  ELEANOR  LEE 

the  other.  Eleanor  lingered,  looking  at  the  home 
where  she  had  been  a  girl,  the  house  so  little  changed. 
She  felt  herself  older,  yet  the  heart  of  youth  throbbed 
in  her  again  as  she  and  her  husband  walked  home 
under  the  maple  trees. 

"  Are  you  sure,  Harry,  that  you  are  right  in  encour 
aging  his  scheme?"  she  asked.  "  I  cannot  feel  that 
we  are  wise  in  saying  yes.  1  don't  want  it  to  look 
to  the  world,  as  if  Lee  is  trying  to  marry  the  Waugh 
fortune." 

"  You  almost  make  me  angry,  Nellie,  or  you  would, 
if  1  could  be  angry  with  you.  As  if  Lee  Osbourn 
were  a  pauper,  or  an  idiot,  and  not  a  pretty  well-to- 
do  young  man,  clean,  handsome,  wholesome,  with  a 
bright  future  before  him,  if  God  spares  his  life,  and  as 
if  Lois  Waugh  were  not  a  most  charming  girl,  of  a 
personality  like  flame,  and  a  parentage  that  of  itself 
is  a  certificate  of  character.  I  am  thankful  to  see 
them  mated.  Nothing  could  be  better.  Waugh 
thinks  as  I  do." 

"There's  a  good  deal  of  Donald  Waugh  in  Lois," 
said  Eleanor  reflectively.  "  Life  with  her  won't  be  a 
gracious  and  amiable  affair.  There'll  be  ups  and 
downs." 

"There's  a  good  deal  of  his  dear  mother  in  Lee," 
answered  Harry.  "  I'll  back  him  for  winnings  in  any 
race,  God  bless  him !  " 

"  I  suppose  it  was  to  be,"  acquiesced  Eleanor,  as 
they  reached  their  door. 

A  little  lady  was  there  before  them.  It  was  Mattie, 
stouter,  compacter  than  ever,  but  smiling  and  gracious. 
She  came  forward  with  extended  hands. 

"Lois  could  have  chosen  nobody  who  would  have 


FULFILLMENTS  321 

pleased  me,  and  her  father,  as  Lee  Osbourn  does," 
she  said.  "We'll  give  them  a  beautiful  wedding, 
and  once  they  are  married,  I  hope  Lee  will  put  his 
foot  down,  and  keep  my  daughter  away  from  count 
ing-rooms  and  factories  forever  more." 

A  few  weeks  later  bride  and  groom  sailed  away. 
As  the  parents  of  both  went  home  to  houses  that  for 
awhile  would  be  a  little  lonelier,  they  were  silent. 

Donald  Waugh  slipped  Mattie's  hand  into  his,  and 
with  more  animation  than  he  had  recently  shown, 
said, 

"  I  have  you  still,  dear.  We'll  go  over  by  and  by 
and  bring  them  back." 

Eleanor,  with  an  ache  at  the  back  of  her  eyes,  that 
felt  like  tears,  sat  up  very  straight,  and  when  her 
husband's  arm  went  round  her,  smiled.  It  was  a 
brave  smile,  as  brave  as  her  life,  for  she  had  not 
wished  her  only  son  to  marry  at  twenty-one.  But 
this  was  a  selfish  feeling  and  she  knew  it  and  put  it 
down.  After  an  hour  alone  in  her  chamber,  she 
joined  Harry,  and  her  face  was  serene  as  a  summer 
morning. 

"We  are  not  going  to  be  morbid,  are  we?"  he 
said  caressingly. 

She  lifted  eyes  that  were  shining  through  tears. 

"Harry,  what  is  before  those  two,  only  God 
knows." 

"  Let  us  hope  that  God  knowing,  will  guide  them 
aright,"  he  said. 

"Lois  is  too  masterful  in  her  nature,  she  has 
yielded  too  little,  to  be  at  once  a  happy  wife." 

"Lee  is  very  considerate,  and  both  are  wholly  in 
love,  dear.  Is  not  that  fact  a  pledge  that  all  will  be 


322  ELEANOR   LEE 

well  with  them  ?  Come,  Eleanor,  be  just.  We  can 
not  keep  our  children  little  forever,  and  in  their  blithe 
day  of  youth,  why  should  we  begrudge  them  their 
right  io  their  own  lives  ?  Be  just,  my  darling.  We 
too  have  been  young." 

"  You  will  be  young  when  you  are  threescore  and 
ten,  Harry  Osbourn." 

"And  you  can  never  be  old,"  he  answered  gal 
lantly.  "Come,  dear,  we're  not  going  to  be  morbid, 
are  we  ?  " 

"No.  We  are  going  to  be  thankful.  We  are  go 
ing  to  remember  the  years  of  the  right  hand  of  the 
Most  High." 

"Dear,"  said  the  husband,  "  God  has  been  good  to 
us,  unspeakably  good.  Has  He  not  ?  Shall  we  not 
trust  Him  still?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  wife,  "  I  have  nothing  in  my  heart 
but  praise." 


THE  END 


M 


iln 


UCLA-Young  Research  Library 

PS2767   .E38 

y 


ii  ii  ii  it  in*111 

L  009  593  260  4 


£3  :? 


